


Sharing Space

by singingisfun



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:45:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingisfun/pseuds/singingisfun





	1. Chapter 1

_Two years ago_

_"Emma, you're up", Mary Margaret said after missing a cross table shot on the five ball._

_"Hmm, what?" she asked, dragging her eyes away from the pair at the bar. The gorgeous brunette leaning seductively across it with her ample bosom practically shoved into the guy's face._

_"It's your shot," David echoed._

_"Oh, right!" she answered and grabbed her pool cue. Focusing on the game, she walked around the table to study the remaining balls. She lined up a shot on the eleven ball and bent over the table._

_With a little more force than necessary, she sunk the eleven in the side pocket._

_"Nice shot, partner," Killian told her, appearing at her arm with two fresh drinks in his hands. When she looked at him questioningly, he shrugged, adding, "You looked like you were ready for another," as he held one out to her._

_She smiled tightly. "Thanks," she said, taking a quick drink and handing it back to him._

_Killian nodded and retreated to a table along the wall, watching as she found her next shot. He tried not to look admiringly at her backside as she leaned low over the table - but he was only human. And the way her sweater rode up and her jeans rode down? Only a fool would pass up this opportunity. And Killian Jones was no fool –_

_Well, maybe he was – but he still wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to watch her, especially not tonight. It was their last night together for, possibly, a very long time._

_Emma sank one more before missing a shot on the nine ball. She joined him at the high-top table and picked up her drink as David began studying the layout on the table._

_It was a tradition, the four of them playing doubles eight-ball. It was always Mary Margaret and David against Killian and Emma. This was how they'd unwound from the stress of college and work for the past year - but tonight was different. Tonight the stress of college was over, they'd just graduated earlier in the day and tonight was a celebration –_

_Well, at least they were calling it a celebration. But they all knew what it really was. It was goodbye. Emma was leaving the next morning to take a job half way across the country and the impending separation was hanging over their heads._

_Killian sighed softly to himself, his eyes looking toward the table but his attention focused on the woman beside him. By this time tomorrow she'd be gone. There would be no more stealing glances at her when she wasn't looking, no more light hearted banter and eye rolling, no more games of eight-ball or late night study sessions with her sitting across from him, her hair in a messy bun and pencil stuck between her teeth._

_The thought was tearing up at his gut. And the forced joviality of the night was starting to wear his emotions thin. He didn't know how much more he could stand._

_After taking his turn at the table, he noticed the drink he'd just brought her was already gone (her third in less than an hour). At this rate she'd be totally plowed over before long. Still, he nudged it with his hand asking, "Ready for another?"_

_"What?" she asked and looked to the glass in confusion, "Oh, uh, I guess so."_

_"I'll get it," he offered._

_"No, that's okay, I'll go," she said quickly._

_Killian nodded toward game and said, "No worries, lass, you're up next, anyway. I'll only be a moment."_

_Emma's jaw clenched slightly at his reply and he wondered what on earth he'd done to earn her annoyance this time._

_Standing at the bar, he glanced back to her. She was a vision, her hair falling loose around her shoulders as she threw her head back and laughed at something David said. He traced a finger on the bar in front of him and closed his eyes. Emma was leaving. The woman he'd been hopelessly in love with for the past two years was leaving and he'd never even plucked up the courage to ask her out._

_In his defense, it's not like he hadn't tried. He'd tested the waters from time to time by flirting with her a bit. But she'd always looked at him like a friend, she'd always rebuffed his advances with a shake of her head and a smile. Sometimes she'd even add a pithy comment like, "Does that ever really work?" To which he would, of course, cockily reply, "All the time, love," with a waggle of his eyebrows._

_Clenching his jaw, he took a deep breath, berating himself for never taking the chance. Liquid courage, he thought, maybe that would help. He got Ruby's attention and ordered a shot of rum for himself along with her rum and diet coke, gulping down the shot before returning to the table._

_Tonight could be his last chance. And he was not going to pass it up._

K&EK&EK&E

Present Day

Killian awoke to the smell of bacon cooking and the sound of giggling coming from his kitchen. Slowly, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath, humming in his throat. He was in for a delicious breakfast this morning. The smell beckoning him from sleep, he carefully eased himself out of his bed, doing his best not to jostle the blonde that had her arm thrown across his middle. As quietly as he could, he put on a shirt and some sweatpants.

He meandered into the kitchen to find David standing behind Mary Margaret who was leaning back into him, a spatula in one hand and the other wrapped around his neck. Killian couldn't help but grin and shake his head. His light chuckle broke them apart.

"G'morning, Killian," David said stepping back from his girlfriend, "You got in late last night."

Killian flushed and walked over and grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate, earning himself him a slap on the wrist.

"Hey," the raven haired beauty said, "use a plate."

Undeterred, Killian popped the bacon into his mouth anyway and grinned at her before turning toward the coffeepot to pour a mug of the steaming liquid and commented, "Yeah, I met up with some guys from work. We had a few drinks and I guess time got away from me."

David dug up some plates as Killian added exactly one spoon of hazelnut cream and one package of Splenda to the mug. Placing it beside the stove next to Mary Margaret, he kissed her on the cheek and said, "Smells delicious, darling. When are you going to realize that you've made a critical error and leave my sorry flatmate and run away with me?"

"Funny," Mary Margaret said, chuckling and giving him a playful nip in the ribs, "I thought you only went for blondes."

"That's not true." _Was it?_ "Any woman who can cook like you is a treasure."

David looked up from the table where he was setting out the plates and said good naturedly to Killian, "You know, if you'd find your own woman, you wouldn't need to hit on mine all the time."

Killian grinned and crossed back to the coffeepot to pour two more mugs, black this time, and handed one over to David. Killian loved mornings like this. It was so… domestic. He and two of his oldest friends going through this simple morning routine. "You make it sound like that's so easy. Not everyone meets their soulmate in college, mate."

"Maybe not, but if you would ju - "

"David, could you grab some utensils?" Mary Margaret asked, quickly cutting him off.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he sighed, turned away from his friend and let the subject drop.

The three of them had just settled at the table to eat when a door opened down the hall and the sound of footsteps could be heard.

Mary Margaret's and David's eyes shot up to Killian and, _bloody hell, he'd forgotten all about her._

All three turned to the door as the woman entered the kitchen wearing a barely-there dress, holding her shoes in one hand and her bag in the other.

"Smells fantastic," the girl said as Killian shot out of his chair and crossed to her.

"Ah, yes, well, Mary Margaret is one of the best chefs around," Killian said as he approached her, quickly scratching the back of his neck. "Would you care for some? I can, uh, get you a plate."

"Oh, no, that's okay," the girl replied as she placed one hand on Killian's arm to steady herself and slipped on her shoes, "I should really be going." With a small wave toward David and Mary Margaret, she turned and walked toward the door.

Killian followed behind her, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and a flush staining his cheeks saying, "Right, of course, well… it was, uh, really nice to meet you."

Stopping at the door to slip on her jacket, she turned to him, smiled, and said, "Yeah, it was fun," then, hesitated, glancing down to the floor and back up saying, "Look, we don't have to do this," vaguely motioning between them with her hand, "It _was_ fun, but I think we both know that's all it was. You seem like a nice guy, Killian, and if you're ever interested in, well, more than just fun, call me."

With that she kissed him on the cheek and laid a piece of paper on the table next to the door. He smiled gratefully at her and chuckled lightly, hands still in his pockets, "Was I that obvious?" he asked, looking up at her with his head bent and rocking back on his heels.

"Not that obvious, really, it's just, well, kindred spirits and all, I guess," she said and smiled at him again as she opened the door, "Goodbye Killian."

"Goodbye," he replied as he shut the door behind her. Then, he leaned his forehead against it for a moment and sighed.

When he returned to the kitchen and saw the looks he was getting from his friends, he didn't know if he should be embarrassed, insulted or amused. Both were still holding their forks up as though they'd just been interrupted in the middle of a bite. David's expression showed complete shock and a touch of amusement while Mary Margaret just looked worried.

Choosing to act as though this were nothing out of the ordinary, Killian returned to his seat and started eating again, waiting for the barrage of comments that were coming.

Mary Margaret recovered first. She dropped her fork to her plate with a clatter, cleared her throat as though it had gone dry and asked, "What's going on, Killian?"

Killian felt his cheeks go red. "Nothing," he replied. "I met her last night. Like I said, I went out with a couple of the guys I work with and, well…"

"So you… I mean, she…" Mary Margaret couldn't even form the question it seemed, "She slept here last night?"

"What's the big deal?" Killian asked, "It's not like I make a habit of - "

"That's exactly why it's a big deal," David cut him off, the amusement clear in his voice. "You haven't, well, you know, with anyone in… a while."

Mary Margaret shot daggers across the table at her boyfriend, clearly unamused.

"What?" David asked, "I think it's good. You need to get out more. You've gone on, what? Two dates in the past year?"

Killian didn't answer, he just stared down at his plate. He knew his friends worried about him. His personal life _had_ been lacking for a while now but he couldn't bring himself to tell them why.

He felt the silence in the room grow thick and looked up to see Mary Margaret and David having another of their silent conversations across the table. He'd been hanging around with them so long that, occasionally, he was able to follow them. Mary Margaret's look was definitely the "drop it, now" look and he was grateful when David did.

Their normal conversation resumed as they finished their meal. Then, as he and David were clearing the table and cleaning the dishes, his friend spoke up, "Oh! I forgot to tell you: I talked to Emma last week. She's coming to town for a job interview. There's an opening for a detective at the station and I talked her into submitting her resume."

Killian froze at the words, his body going stiff as electricity crackled through his system.

"I hope you don't mind, but I told her she could stay with us for a couple of days..."

Killian didn't hear the rest of what David said. His ears were buzzing and he suddenly felt light headed as he gripped at the counter for support. Emma Swan was coming for a visit and, more than that, she was going to be sleeping under the same roof? His last memory of her flashed into his mind, waking up alone after what _he'd_ thought was –

Dammit, it didn't matter what he'd thought. He'd been _wrong_. She obviously hadn't felt for him what he had for her. He drew a deep breath and pushed the memory down, down, _down._ The feel of hair, her skin, the way her eyes had gone a deeper shade of green –

No, he had to stop.

"Killian?" Mary Margaret's voice and the soft touch of her hand on his arm cut through the pounding in his ears.

When he looked up, he noted that David was no longer in the room. He'd completely missed the rest of the conversation.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern etching her features.

"What? Yeah, of course," he immediately replied, "Just tired. I guess I'm not as young as I used to be. I should leave the late nights to the younger lads and, bloody hell, is that the time? I've got to get moving. I'll see you tonight."

He could tell Mary Margaret wanted to say something more but he didn't give her the chance as he rushed from the room to change for work.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma Swan was going home. She had everything she owned packed up in her Volkswagon beetle and she was on her way to the small town just north of Boston to see her family. Okay, so technically, they weren't her family but that didn't matter. In her heart, they were her family and in about two hours, she'd see them again.

She took a deep breath and smiled.

When David had called and told her his department needed another detective, she'd thrown caution to the wind, sold everything that wouldn't fit into her car and handed in her resignation to her Captain.

She was going home.

And, even if she didn't get the detective job, she would stay and find something else. She could always be a bail bondsperson or a private detective or – it didn't matter what (she'd wait tables if she had to). She'd work out the details later.

None of that mattered right now, because she was going home and nothing had ever felt so right. She'd missed David and Mary Margaret so much.

And Killian.

She was going to see Killian again. Nerves ate at her stomach over it but they were outweighed by the utter certainty that she had finally figured out where her home was. Home was where her family was. And Killian was part of that family. Sure, he was a flirt and was probably juggling a dozen women just like he had back in college but he was still part of her family. And he was her best friend, or at least he had been, and she was determined to renew that friendship even if it killed her.

She admitted to herself that while she'd missed Mary Margaret and David, the ache in her chest was in large part due to him. He was the reason she had to go home. Just as he was the reason she'd been scared to for so long.

She gripped the wheel a little tighter as she rubbed her hands on the column. It didn't matter that she'd been madly in love with him for years. She could do this. He was her friend, first and foremost, and she needed him back. Of course, there was a chance he didn't want to see her, she thought as doubt worked through her gut.

She hadn't heard from him once since she'd left (and coward that she was, she'd never called him, either) and when she'd invited him for Christmas, along with Mary Margaret and David, he'd declined the invitation. She still remembered the sinking feeling she'd gotten when Mary Margaret told her he wasn't coming. She'd spent the entire holiday tangled up on the inside, scared that she'd lost him forever but David insisted that he had to work. The business he started was keeping him very busy and he'd added an extra night tour during the holiday season to view the Christmas lights from the water.

So, she'd had to rely on the casual information she got about him from Mary Margaret for the past two years. She never outright asked about him but her heart would always flutter when he came up in conversation… Like when he and David took Mary Margaret out for her birthday (he got her a top-of-the-line food processor) or how he'd helped her when her car broke down on the expressway (he gave her his car and told her to go home while waited in the pouring rain for the tow truck).

It still made her heart flip every time Mary Margaret so much as mentioned his name, dreading the day she would casually mention something about a woman. Not that she ever had (thank god). Emma didn't know what she would do if she found out he had settled down with someone… unlikely as it was. He'd never, in all the time she'd known him, had a full-on relationship. He'd had plenty of offers, she was sure. It was almost comical, the number of women who threw themselves at him.

That face of his… the bright blue eyes and jet black hair. His image floated into her mind and with it came a mix of fear and excitement but beneath that there was a warmth that she craved more of. That wasn't all she craved, either, she thought with a fresh flash of panic.

Get ahold of yourself, Emma. You can do this. You managed to make it through an entire year of school being around him constantly without making total fool of yourself. Well, at least not too much of a fool.

There had been that one time. The night before she'd been set to leave for Chicago. The four of them had gone out for one last hoorah and she'd had a little too much to drink and, well, who could blame her, right? David and Mary Margaret had left but Emma hadn't wanted to waste a moment of her last night with Killian, so they'd stayed to play another game of pool. She had just finished congratulating herself on keeping her hormones under control when he'd looked at her with those intense blue eyes and told her he would miss her with such sincerity and, really, what was she supposed to do?

K&EK&EK&E

_"I can't believe you're really leaving, Swan," he said quietly, and even though the music was too loud and the people around them were shouting, somehow she heard him clearly._

_"I can't believe you bought a boat company," she countered and leaned back against the pool table, pool cue in hand and crossing her legs at her ankles._

_He chuckled. "It's not a boat company, it's a chartering business for tourists. Liam would have loved it. He always wanted to work near the water and you can't get closer than being on it every day."_

_"You'll be great at it," she told him and meant it, "I'm so happy for you, Killian."_

_"I'll give you a free tour when you come back to visit," he offered._

_"It's a date," she said and winced at her choice of words but quickly recovered, adding, "but what about this place?" motioning vaguely with her hand at the bar they were in, "I mean you've worked here for the past two years. There won't be nearly as many unattached, willing females down at the dock. Don't you think you'll miss it?"_

_He shook his head at her, smiling as he deposited his pool cue on the rack, "You mean the glamorous occupation of pouring spirits into glasses for drunk co-eds? No, I'm sure I won't. But I'll tell you what I will miss…"_

_"And what's that?" she asked, keeping her voice light even as he stepped into her personal space._

_"I'll miss_ you _," he said softly._

_Their eyes met and held for a moment and Emma's heartrate spiked at the intensity in his gaze. Alcohol was buzzing through her system, the euphoria of the night overriding her common sense. It could be months before she'd see him again. She was leaving, moving halfway across the country, and this was her last night with him for who knew how long._

_His gaze darted to her lips for a split second and the butterflies in her stomach sprang to life at his intent. Just this once, she told herself. She was leaving tomorrow, but before she did, she could at least take this one memory with her. He reached out and took the pool cue from her and laid it on the table behind her, his body brushing up against hers as he did so and her breath caught. When he met her eyes again, she could see his resolve as he leaned toward her. She closed her eyes in anticipation, but before his lips met hers, someone called his name._

_The spell between them was broken and she heard him huff out a frustrated breath before he stepped back and turned to the brunette with the impressive amount of cleavage who was approaching him._

_Emma looked away from the two of them and occupied herself by rolling a pool ball under her hand, listening as the girl asked him if he could give her a ride home. To his credit, he flushed, extricated himself from her quickly and sent her away disappointed._

_Emma schooled her features and lifted an eyebrow, "You don't have to send her away on my account," she told him propping her hip up on the table and turning to push one of the left over balls from their game (that she had won, by the way) into one of the pockets. "I don't want to get in the way of - "_

_"It's not like…" Killian breathed a sigh of frustration before he looked back at her, stepping up to stand in front of her and cage her in, "Tonight is about us, Swan. It's about us enjoying the little time we have left." His hand rose to her cheek as his voice softened again and he continued, pinning her with his eyes, "I'm going to miss you. It won't be the same without you here."_

_His eyes had darted to her mouth again while he spoke and his face was getting slowly closer. Mesmerized, Emma whispered softly, "You'll still have Mary Margaret and David. It won't really be that different."_

_She'd tried to keep her voice steady but she heard it quiver under his heated gaze. She needed to stop him, push him back, but her curiosity, mixed with rum and the proximity of his body, was too distracting. Hadn't she always wondered? Hadn't she always dreamed about this? Killian Jones, who could have any woman he wanted, was looking at her the way she'd always wanted him to. He'd even turned down another woman to stay with her._

_"Mary Margret and David may be like family to me," he said, his eyes completely focused on her lips now as his forehead landed up against her own and she closed her eyes to revel in the feeling. "But what am I going to do without_ you _, love?"_

_She tried to respond, she really did, but she couldn't think of a word to say, especially when he brushed his nose against hers affectionately and moved his other hand to her hip._

_"What will I do without you, Emma?" he whispered almost to himself, the tone of his voice ragged, his accent thick with emotion. Her skin tingled at the sound. His face was so close that she could feel his breath against her lips, his forehead pressed lightly into hers as he slid his hand around to the back of her neck, kneading lightly._

_Then his lips brushed against hers in a caress so soft she might have missed it if she wasn't so completely focused on him. She moved her own hand up to his cheek and returned the kiss, rubbing her lips across his in nearly the same way but with slightly more pressure. She heard his quick intake of breath an instant before his mouth claimed hers fully, one hand anchoring in her hair and the other wrapping around her waist to pull her body into his._


	3. Chapter 3

Killian Jones considered himself a happy man. He had a job he loved and close friends who would do anything for him and vice versa.

He'd lived with David and Mary Margaret since they'd all graduated from university together and while he loved living with them, it was a constant reminder to him of what was missing in his own life. Their love was almost palpable, the quintessential couple.

Yes, he was happy in every facet of his life, except love. The one thing he didn't have was a woman to give his heart to.

Well, that wasn't completely true. He did have a woman to give it to, she just didn't want it.

Emma Swan. Just the thought of her made is heart race. She'd been at university with them and he'd loved her since nearly the first moment. Of course, back then she'd been dating that blasted idiot. The imbecile who didn't realize what he had and who had broken her heart while trying to frame her for a crime that _he_ had committed.

Thankfully, David had been studying Criminology and had taken it upon himself to speak to the detective who arrested her. Emma was cleared of all charges while Neal had fled to Canada or somewhere. Emma had been devastated by the betrayal but with the help of David and Mary Margaret she'd been able to get on with her life. She'd even changed her major shortly after so that she could help others in the same situation.

He admired her determination and her spirit. Emma Swan was a tough lass. Nothing life threw at her could break her. She was a force to be reckoned with, beautiful and fierce, strong and kind. She had overcome her unstable childhood in the foster system to become one of the few female police detectives in Chicago (and with one of the highest arrest records).

He had fancied them friends once upon a time - best friends, in fact. After the Neal debacle, the two of them, along with Mary Margaret and David, had spent a lot of time together. There were several nights the two of them had sat up talking almost through the night in his and David's dorm room. Of course, part of that was out of necessity since David and Mary Margaret were getting hot and heavy in the room she and Emma shared. Still, he'd shared secrets with her that he'd never told anyone else, about his mother's death, his father's drinking, and then the loss of his brother.

Like Emma, he had no blood relatives to speak of, but during one of their late night talks, he'd realized that that didn't mean he didn't have a family. His family was right there with him: David, Mary Margaret and Emma. They were his family and he was blessed to have them.

Then, as graduation approached everything started to fall apart. Emma had gotten a job with the Chicago police department (the crime capital of the world) and she was determined make detective and become the best one she could. She made the announcement she was leaving only two days after he'd purchased a boat chartering business with what was left of Liam's life insurance money.

The thought of her leaving had made his heart feel like it was being squeezed, like someone had pushed their hand right into his chest and ripped his heart from his body. He did his best to keep his inner turmoil to himself. This was what Emma wanted: to take the world by storm in a big city where she could make a big difference. During the weeks leading up to graduation, he'd spent as much time with her as he could. Every minute had been the sweetest torture. He'd considered more than once laying his heart at her feet and telling her how he felt – but he didn't, he couldn't. He would never stand in the way of her dream.

Killian sat back in his chair, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding and he wasn't sure if it was from the outing last night or the news David had so casually dropped this morning. With a frustrated sigh, he stood and walked into the next room to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, gulping it down quickly.

"Hey, Killian. How'd it go last night after we left?" he heard Jefferson ask. Then turning, Jeff spoke to the redhead sitting behind the reception desk and added, "Let me give you a piece of advice, Ariel. Never challenge this guy to a game of pool. He suckered me in last night and wiped the floor with me. It was humiliating, especially since there were a couple of beautiful women there to witness my defeat."

Killian chuckled, "Those beautiful women were, I think, very happy to console you, mate."

"Well, that's true," he said slyly then, as though a lightbulb had just gone off over his head, added, "We should do it again tonight. You know, just to see if we can prove that theory." Taking in Ariel's look of chagrin, he added, "For science."

Killian chuckled and responded, "While I appreciate the offer, I think once was plenty."

"Come on, boss. We made a hell of a team. I mean, you didn't look like you were suffering when I left. That blonde you were talking to was hanging on your every word."

Killian flushed and cleared his throat, turning away from Ariel's suddenly very interested gaze.

"Really?" she asked.

"There's no need to sound so astonished, Ariel. I have been known to attract a woman's attention from time to time."

"That's not wh - "

"You're ten o'clock charter just pulled in," Killian said to Jefferson, "and from the looks of them, you won't need me as your wingman tonight, anyway."

Looking toward the window, Jefferson grinned when he saw the two women in short shorts and tank tops emerge from a car. Turning back to Killian, he sighed. "You know, sometimes I just love my job. Catch ya later, guys."

Ariel and Killian both chuckled and shook their heads as he disappeared through the door.

"He needs a keeper," Ariel commented.

"Maybe, but the ladies sure seem to like him."

"Yeah, I think every single one of the sorority girls over at the college has scheduled a tour with him now. He's booked out for the next month and the calls keep coming in. Last week, when we had that terrible storm, I thought one of them was going to bite my head off when I called her to reschedule."

Killian chuckled, "Well, he _is_ good for business."

"I suppose so," Ariel said, then added with a smirk, "but, you know, when _you_ were running the parasailing, we were booked out at least two months at all times."

Killian rolled his eyes at her but then softened it with a smile.

"So, did you really meet someone last night?" she asked, "What was she like? Did you get her number? Are you going to call her?"

"Yes, I met someone and she was very nice. Yes, I got her number and no, I'm not going to call her."

"Why not?" She sounded almost indignant.

"I just…" Killian's voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders as an image of Emma's face drifted through his mind, her bright green eyes twinkling with mischief and her hair falling loose around her shoulders as she laughed -

"She must have really been something," Ariel said.

Killian was pulled out of his musings and replied, "I just said she was nice."

"I'm not talking about the woman you met last night," she said, reaching out and giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze, "I'm talking about the woman who broke your heart. You still love her, don't you?"

Killian didn't answer, he just smiled and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Don't worry about me, Ariel. I'm fine."

"But I do worry about you, Killian," she said, keeping a grip on his arm, "When I met you two years ago, you'd obviously just had your heart broken. I never said anything about it but I could tell. And I know you tried to erase her by hanging out in those clubs for a while and – hooking up, with - " she paused as if searching for the right words, "The point I'm trying to make is that I know you. You're a good man. And more than that, you're a hopeless romantic. You don't let people see it but you are. And I just want you to be happy."

"Thank you but, I promise you, I'm very happy."

He patted Ariel on the arm and walked back to his office. Sitting down at his desk, his thoughts immediately wandered back to Emma. Ariel was right, he was a hopeless romantic, _hopeless_ being the operative word.

Here he was, pining over a woman who'd left him without a word, a woman who hadn't spoken to him in two years. She'd kept in touch with David and Mary Margaret, but not him. The first Christmas after she left, she even invited them out to see her, since she couldn't take the time off work to come home. (To be fair, they had told him to come along, swearing it was Emma's idea but he'd known better. If she'd wanted to see him, she would have invited him herself, right?) It was the worst Christmas he'd ever had. Then, last year, she and Mary Margaret had met up for a weekend at a spa. At least David was also left out of that one.

Honestly, he was a little surprised she'd agreed to stay with them. He was sure she didn't want to see him. David must have been very persuasive.

 _Hopeless_ , yeah, that was definitely the right word. He _was_ hopeless - because even though she'd left and even though he hadn't spoken to her since that fateful night two years ago, he still couldn't wait to see her. He'd missed her so much.

K&EK&EK&E

 _"I'll miss_ you _," he said, and watched as the playful grin left her face on a quick intake of breath. He knew she'd been drinking heavily and if he were any kind of gentleman, he'd take her home now and tuck her into bed with a couple of ibuprofens and a large glass of water to stave off her hangover._

_But being a gentleman had never gotten him anywhere with Emma. With a new determination, he stepped forward and took the pool cue from her. This was it. She was leaving tomorrow and he'd be damned if he'd let her leave without at least trying. Her face had softened slightly and he took that bit of encouragement to lean into her._

_To his eternal annoyance, Ruby, one of the bartenders at the pub chose that moment to ask him for a ride home. He told her sorry but he was out with a friend and couldn't tonight._

_When he turned back to Emma the softness from moments before had left her eyes and she said, "You don't have to send her away on my account. I don't want to get in the way of - "_

_And there it was, again. Emma with her assumptions that he was sleeping with every woman he shared so much as a single 'hello' with. But for once, he wasn't going to let it go. This time he was going to set the record straight. He'd never understood where she got this idea. When did she think he even had time to sleep with all the women she assumed he did? He was with her nearly every night except when he was working or studying._

_"It's not like…" he started to say and then stopped himself, his anger deflating. He didn't want to spend his last night with her arguing. Especially not about something he should have set straight by her long ago._

_No, tonight he wanted – needed - to make her see what she meant to him. Saying the words would not be enough, he knew. He needed to_ show _her. With renewed determination, he stepped up to her and pressed his body between her legs, touching her face the way he'd wanted to for months, saying, "Tonight is about us, Swan. It's about us enjoying the little time we have left. I'm going to miss you. It won't be the same without you here."_

_Her eyes had gone glossy again and Killian silently prayed that it was him and not the liquor that caused it. When she spoke again her voice wavered slightly and he pressed his advantage, moving entirely into her body until their foreheads met._

_"You'll still have Mary Margaret and David. It won't really be that different."_

_Wouldn't be that different? he thought. Did she have no idea how important she was to him? She was his sun, she'd brought him back from the darkness after Liam's death. She was like a compass directing him home. After all of the time they had spent together, did she think his feelings so shallow? Or did she just not see her own value to anyone?_

_"Mary Margret and David may be like family to me," he said, willing her to hear the truth he held back, "But what am I going to do without_ you _, love?"_

_He had her fully in his arms, at last. And, thank the heavens, she wasn't pulling away. Her body was warm and soft and she smelled so good. He closed his eyes and breathed her in and the rest of the world fading away to nothing as he fought against the words that wanted to spill from his lips, so instead he asked again, knowing she wouldn't answer, knowing she didn't fully understand yet what he was trying to tell her, "What will I do without you, Emma?"_

_Gathering the remainder of his courage, he brushed his lips against hers tentatively, testing to see if she would bolt, trying to prepare himself in case she did._

_But she didn't. Instead, she kissed him back. The shock of feeling her lips – finally – held him still for a moment before he plunged in to taste her fully. He pulled her entire body into his, partly to feel her against him and partly to keep her from running._

_When she opened her mouth to him, he couldn't stop the groan that escaped him. He kissed her with all of the pent-up emotion he'd been holding in, turning his head to the side to plunge his tongue deep into her mouth. Her body fit into his perfectly and when he felt the sting of her nails digging into his back, he pushed his hips into hers and relished in the gasp that fell from her lips._

_Her hands tugged on his hair and she pulled her mouth away from his to bury her face in his neck. He took the opportunity to rest his head on her shoulder and take in some much needed air before turning his lips to her neck and licking a stripe from the base to just below her ear. The sound that came out of her mouth made his blood pound through his veins and he moved back to lean his forehead against hers again. Their hands met between them and their fingers twined together before he pulled back slightly to look her._

_Her eyes were shut and he watched as she ran her tongue along her lips, catching the bottom one between her teeth as those luminous eyes opened._

_"Let's go," he said and pulled her purposefully toward the door._


	4. Chapter 4

Emma looked at the gold number "4" on the door with a smile and took a deep breath before raising her hand to knock.

When David answered, he wasted no time pulling her forward into a tight hug saying, "Emma, you're early!" then he called out to Mary Margaret, "Honey, Emma's here."

Mary Margaret emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel as she rushed to Emma and threw her arms around her.

"It's so good to see you! You look beautiful! We've missed you so much! Come in. David, get her bag. I'm just starting on dinner. I wanted to have it ready when you got here, but you're early and - " Mary Margaret stopped mid-sentence and hugged her again as tears sprang to her eyes.

Emma felt tears sting hers as well as she held her friend tighter, "Sorry, I just couldn't wait and traffic was really good and - " she pulled back from Mary Margaret and took her hand as her throat closed, the other hand reaching to take David's before swallowing and pulling both of them forward to hug it out some more, "and, I've missed you so much."

The words were muffled against David's shoulder but not enough to mask the emotion behind them. The three of them held on for minute longer and when they broke apart, both women had tears staining their cheeks.

Mary Margaret shook her head as she wiped her eyes and said, "Let me get you a glass of wine. Come on in the kitchen and we can talk while I get dinner going. Killian has a private tour today, so he'll be home a little late but if you're hungry now, I can throw a quick sandwich together for you."

"That's okay, I can wait. How is he?" she prayed her voice sounded normal at the mention of his name.

"He's good. Business is booming. He bought another boat a few months ago. He's got several now, all of them different. One for deep sea fishing, one for sailing and even a speed boat for parasailing _and_ he's thinking about buying one that looks like a pirate ship. You know, as a specialty experience? He's also got employees now. Can you believe it? Our Killian bossing people around? All those business classes paid off, he's a whiz with that kind of stuff."

Of course he is, she thought, remembering the time he'd helped her with one of her projects for her required finance class. She never could figure out why a cop would need to take a finance class but Killian had been a lifesaver, patiently going through the steps of making a financial plan with her. He was the only reason she hadn't failed that damn course.

_"I passed!" she called out, banging on his door. Without waiting, she went on, "Killian, are you there?" she banged on his door again, "Can you hear me? I passed!"_

_The door flung open and Emma held up her paper in front of him, a gleaming 'A' written on the top of it._

_He grinned at her as she rushed past him into the room. "I can't thank you enough. I couldn't have done it without you!"_

_Shutting the door and leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest, he smiled at her indulgently, "Of course you could've, Swan. You can do anything you set your mind to. But I was happy to help."_

The memory came unbidden to her mind, the utter faith she'd heard in his voice, the way he'd always encouraged her, his blind belief that she would always prevail.

She'd missed that in Chicago. There, everything had been working against her as she tried to make a name of herself in a world that was dominated by men. She'd had to fight for everything she got and she'd even considered giving up a few times - but she didn't.

She didn't because she could always hear his voice in the back of her mind telling her she could do anything.

The longer she'd stayed there, though, the quieter that voice had become. The day she realized it, the day she realized his voice was slipping away from her, was the day she knew she had to come home. She'd promised herself, then and there, that she would only stay in Chicago for a few more months until she had a full year of detective experience under her belt, and then she would find a job closer to her family. When David had called her, she'd taken it as a sign.

And here she was, _finally_.

She felt pieces of her soul start to fall back into place as she sipped at her wine, listening to her friends, an unconscious smile lighting her features.

Two hours and one more glass of wine later, she heard the front door open and her body hummed with anticipation.

_Killian was home._

She rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans and drew a shaky breath. She'd thought about this moment too many times to count. She'd played the scene in her head using every possible scenario she could think of and she'd come up with a list of rehearsed responses to all of them. But, at the moment, she couldn't think of a single one.

Panic flashed through her system as she heard his footsteps getting closer. Self-consciously, she looked down at the thread bare jeans and faded t-shirt she was wearing. Why hadn't she thought to freshen up when she got here? She'd just thrown on anything that looked comfortable this morning for the long car ride and – dammit – her hair was probably a mess of tangles from the car window.

Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it pounding inside her head as she tried to quickly run her fingers through her hair. They caught in a tangle almost immediately and she felt the sudden urge to duck under the table. She was about to excuse herself and make a mad dash for the bathroom (and a hairbrush) but she never got the chance.

Suddenly he was there, walking into the kitchen saying, "If that tastes as good as it smells, I'll - "

Whatever he was going to say was cut off when his eyes locked on hers. He stood there for a moment gaping, his mouth slightly open (god, he looked better than she remembered), and her body sprang into action before her brain could stop it as she crossed the room, threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

He stood frozen in her embrace for one unbearable moment, his hands at his sides, and her heart plummeted to her shoes. She was just about to release him and try to regain some of her dignity when his arms wrapped around her like steel bands, pulling her tighter as he whispered her name, the sound making her heart sing.

The last piece of her soul clicked back into place as he held her, slowly swaying back and forth while he rubbed his cheek across her hair.

K&EK&EK&E

_"Let's go," he said and pulled her purposefully toward the door._

_Killian kept a firm grip on her hand as they walked through the parking lot. "Where are we going?" she asked when he passed her car without stopping._

_He stopped walking long enough to meet her gaze and answered, "My new flat is only a couple of blocks away and I don't think it would be wise to drive right now." Then, as though he couldn't resist any longer, his hand went to the back of her head and he crushed his mouth to hers for another long kiss. "I wouldn't want to risk anything happening to us before I get you home."_

_Her stomach clenched at the heat in his eyes, making them even bluer than usual (if that was even possible). He started to pull her toward the street again but she wasn't done yet, so she stopped him by yanking on his arm. A flash of surprise crossed his face as his body slammed into hers, knocking them back a couple of steps. Hooking her fingers into his belt loops, she pulled their hips together and attacked his lower lip, sucking on it and giving it a light nip with her teeth before breaking away again. She heard his breath hitch and she moved her hands to the collar of his jacket keeping their heads pressed together._

_"It better be close," she said, delighted by the look of shock on his face as she released him with a jaunty smile and started off in the direction he had been heading._

_He caught up with her after only a few steps and took her hand again, his fingers twining with hers as he led her down the street. Their steps were hurried and as they turned a corner, they almost collided with a mailbox on the sidewalk._

_"Watch yourself, Swan," he said as he guided her around it._

_His strides were so long that every few steps she had to add a little skip to keep up and, god – did that giggle just come from her?_

_Killian turned to grin at her but kept the pace quick, saying, "Almost there."_

_She felt light and giddy as she gripped his hand tighter and when they turned the next corner, she saw his car parked in front of a small apartment complex and her heartbeat picked up even more. He stopped at the edge of the street just across from his building and looked at her like he wanted to say something._

_Oh, god – he wasn't reconsidering, was he?_

_Before he could say anything, she tugged the hand she was holding and used her other hand to grab his neck and pull him in for another kiss. When she released him, his eyes were stormy and he quickly looked back to the street, checking both ways before leading her across it. She trailed along behind him, appreciating the view as her eyes scanned his body from top to bottom. The anticipation was kicking her system into overdrive as her eyes landed on the freckle just below his right ear. She'd noticed it about six months ago and it had taken everything in her not to lean over and rub her tongue over it right then._

_As they stopped in front of his door, she saw her chance, so she pressed into his back while he was fumbling with the keys and wrapped her arms around his waist. Going up on tiptoe, she indulged herself by running her tongue over the mark as she had wanted to so many times before and pulled his shirt free from his pants so she could rub her hands against his hardened stomach. The sound that left him was positively indecent which only made her grip him tighter as she continued to explore his neck with her tongue._

_"Fuck," he breathed, grabbing one of her hands and pulling her index finger up to his mouth where he sucked on it, hard._

_The door gave way and, before she could blink, he'd caught her on other side of it, pressing the full length of his body into hers. His mouth started a trail down her chest, kissing at any exposed skin he could find and she arched against him. When his hands found hers and pinned them roughly next to her head, her eyes popped open in surprise. And through the haze of lust, she could see the empty living room over his shoulder. She wanted to tease him about it but the only words that sprang to mind were, "Bed, Killian, please, tell me you have a bed."_

_Smiling, he glanced behind him quickly, "Technically, no, but the mattress was delivered yesterday."_

_"Thank god," was her response, as she attacked his lips again._


	5. Chapter 5

Killian was bone tired. Half way through the day, he'd promised himself he would never let those bleeding idiots talk him into going out for drinks ever again.

When he opened the door to his flat and smelled the incredible aroma of Mary Margret's cooking, he almost wept with relief. A good meal and straight to bed, he thought, that's what he needed.

He dropped his keys on the table by the door and headed toward the kitchen, thanking his lucky stars to have a chef as a flatmate, "If that tastes as good as it smells, I'll - "

The words froze on his tongue as the wind was knocked out of him.

There she was, sitting at his kitchen table, _beautiful_ and _real_ and… _here_.

Before he could gather his wits and speak… or move… or think… or _breathe…_ she was standing up, walking around the table and heading straight for him.

She said his name, "Killian," a smile lighting her features, a moment before her arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a fierce hug, burying her face in his neck.

It took his brain another second to catch up before his breath finally returned and he closed his eyes, hugging her back just as fiercely as her name fell from his lips. They held the position for what felt like eternity, swaying back and forth.

 _She was here,_ he thought. And not only was she here, she seemed genuinely happy to see him. She was in his arms again, holding him tightly, and his heart thudded in his chest. The fatigue of the day left him in a rush to be replaced by the relief of _finally._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he was probably holding her too tight, holding her too long, for a casual friend but he couldn't bring himself to care. She was clinging to him, too, her nose pressed into his neck, and he would _not_ be the first to let go.

"I missed you," she whispered into his ear, her breath tickling it in the process, and a chill slid down his spine.

He gripped her closer, almost lifting her off the floor and fisting a hand in her hair. "I missed you, too," he croaked, his eyes squeezed shut and his nose turned into her hair, "I can't believe you're here."

It was an innocent enough statement but he couldn't keep the intense emotion out of his voice and he hoped it would go unnoticed. Apparently, it did because David spoke up.

"I told you this morning that she was coming in today," he said, "Don't tell me that you were so hung over that you don't remember."

At David's comment, he felt Emma's arms loosen and he reluctantly eased his grip. When she met his eyes, she chuckled and said, "Sounds like you haven't changed a bit," as she gave his shoulders a quick squeeze before taking a step back.

Killian cursed inwardly at David for bringing up last night but he cursed himself more for the moment of idiocy he'd had the night before. To cover the ache in his chest, he reverted to his old banter with her, "And why would I do that, Swan? Perfection is impossible to improve upon, so change would be unnecessary."

She rolled her eyes at him the way she used to and turned to go back to her seat. His eyes drank her in as she sauntered away, trying to catch his breath. God, she looked good, even better than he remembered. When she made it to her seat and turned back to face him, he hastily averted his gaze.

"Get yourself a glass of wine, Killian," Mary Margaret suggested, "Dinner is almost ready."

Grateful for the distraction, he turned to pull a glass from the cabinet and poured himself a drink. He gulped it down quickly, to calm his nerves, and tried to focus on the conversation going on around him, not sure how he was supposed to do that when his world had just been turned inside-out and upside-down.

"Killian?" Mary Margaret poked him in the arm.

"Hmmm?"

Mary Margaret chuckled, shaking her head and he realized that that must not have been her first attempt to gain is attention. "I asked how the new guy is doing. What's his name? Jefferson?"

Snapped out of his reverie, he replied, "He's doing well. He's certainly popular with the college crowd."

"You mean the college _girls_ , right?" she asked with a knowing tilt of her head. Then she looked to Emma. "You should see this guy, Emma. He's got that dark, brooding look that - "

"Hey," David interjected, "I'm sitting right here."

"I know you are," Mary Margaret said as she flipped a piece of chicken in the skillet, "and I love you more than anything in this world, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a specimen like that," she turned back to Emma, "He's just got these amazing - "

"I beg you not to finish that sentence," David cut her off again sounding both amused and offended, and both of the women laughed.

Killian couldn't help but laugh as well at the incredulity on David's face. He could do this, he realized, as Mary Margaret abandoned the chicken long enough to step over to David and kiss him lightly on the mouth before returning to the stove. He'd missed the four of them hanging out like this, cracking jokes on each other (although most seemed to be at David's expense), and his heart started to settle back into his chest.

Noticing that Emma's glass was almost empty, he picked up the bottle and walked over to the table to refill it.

She looked vaguely surprised before she said, "Thanks," with an easy smile.

As he smiled back, his stomach fluttered in an oddly familiar way. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in two years, he realized. The simple joy of making her smile. He welcomed the feeling as it warmed him from the inside out and his heart skipped a beat.

He could do this, he thought again. They were friends, first and foremost, and he could be happy with that. In fact, he realized as he sat down across the table from her, this was the happiest and most content he'd been in a very long time. She was here, she was happy to see him and he could still make her smile with the simplest of gestures. The fact that he was tempted to lean over and run his lips across the elegant line of her neck was irrelevant. Well, maybe not irrelevant, but controllable.

God knows, he'd done it before.

But, he had to admit to himself as he eyed her across the table, that was before he knew how she tasted. That was before he'd heard her whisper his name into his ear as he kissed the line of her jaw. And before he knew how incredible it felt to be welcomed into her body.

An ache in his fingers distracted him from his thoughts and he realized he'd subconsciously fisted his hand on the table to keep from reaching for her. Determinedly, he loosened his fist and stretched out his fingers so the blood would return, praying that his control would be strong enough.

K&EK&EK&E

_It was only a short walk from the pub to his new flat and he still didn't know how they made it without pawing at each other in the middle of the street._

_He fumbled for the keys as they approached the door, Emma right on his heels, and when the lock was being stubborn, she pressed her front to his back and wrapped her arms around his waist, running her tongue along his neck. He moaned in response and then felt her hands on his bare stomach, distracting him for one precious moment before he renewed his efforts on the door and used his free hand to pull one of her fingers up to his mouth, sucking on it hard._

_The lock clicked – finally – and he pulled her through the door, catching her on the other side of it and pressing her hard into the unforgiving wood. His mouth latched onto hers once again and he swallowed her whimper. God – this had to be a dream – Emma Swan whimpering and sighing and gripping at his back. He wanted to memorize every sound, every movement, but his brain had gone fuzzy and all he could think was more… he wanted more._

_He wanted to make her sigh and groan and quiver and scream his name but her hands were working their way up his chest, distracting him from his mission, so he grabbed her wrists and forced her hands up next to her head to keep them still. Free from distraction, he moved his mouth down her body. She was wearing a low cut top and he trailed his tongue down her chest as far as he could until he met fabric. She shivered against him and the triumph he felt had him groaning in return._

_"Bed, Killian," she breathed, "please, tell me you have a bed."_

_Smiling, he turned and looked at the empty room behind him and then back into her eyes. "Technically, no, but the mattress was delivered yesterday."_

_"Thank god," she said and leaned forward to meet his lips, mouth hot and wet and, bloody hell, he wanted to go slow, he wanted to savor this but how on earth was he supposed to do that when she pushed him away from the door and wrenched her hands from his grip so that she could grab his arm and start pulling him toward the bedroom?_

_As they walked (or stumbled, more like) through the living room, clothing started to come off. The shirts were easy and got thrown haphazardly in different directions but the jeans were more of a challenge. So he stopped her halfway down the hallway to kneel in front of her and slide them down her legs. As he tossed them away, he placed an open-mouthed kiss on her stomach and she slammed her head back against the wall in response, her fingers yanking on his hair._

_She pulled him to his feet and started working his jeans over his hips and down his legs. He stumbled as they came off and the delighted giggle he heard went straight to his groin – and so did her hand. She rubbed against him and his hips jerked in response, ragged moans filling the quiet apartment. Fuck – at this rate, he was not going to last long and he was determined to slow the pace so he could take his time with her._

_They fell into bed together and Killian saw his chance. Once again caging her hands next to her head, he pulled back and gazed down at her, trying to catch his breath. Her body was almost completely bare to him now, only her undergarments remained, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of her even as she squirmed beneath him. She was more beautiful than he had ever imagined and his heart ached in his chest._

_"Emma, open your eyes, darling," he said and when she did, he was lost. Time stood still as he looked at the woman he loved and saw passion flaring in her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly from her heavy breathing. He traced a finger along her cheek to her chin, catching it between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes never leaving hers._

_"Emma, I - "_

_But he was cut off when she pressed her finger to his mouth. "Don't," she pleaded, "Please just… don't say anything. Just… touch me."_

_He swallowed hard against the words and nodded, moving his hand down her body and swiftly catching her lips in another mind blowing kiss._


	6. Chapter 6

Emma realized she was gulping down her wine a little too quickly as Killian refilled her glass. She smiled at him, praying that he couldn't see the tension his proximity caused. Her ears were buzzing and she was thankful Mary Margaret was keeping up the conversation almost single-handedly because her mind (and her gaze) kept wandering to the man sitting across from her.

"I hope you're all hungry, because it's time to eat," Mary Margaret said.

And with that announcement came a flurry of activity. Killian and David were up and moving before she could blink. Killian grabbed some plates from the cupboard and started setting the table as David pulled out silverware and napkins. The timer on the oven went off and Killian immediately threw on some oven mitts to pull out the dish as Mary Margaret stepped back to give him room.

"Can I do anything to help?" Emma asked.

"Oh no, sweetie, you just relax, we've got this," Mary Margaret told her.

Killian placed the steaming dish on the table and David retrieved another bottle of wine to open. Mary Margaret was plating the chicken on a big platter and Killian picked up the bowl of salad off the counter and placed it on the table as well. Then he turned back to Mary Margaret and took the platter from her, she grabbed some butter from the refrigerator and David picked up the bowl of bread. The three of them sat down at the table in almost complete unison.

"Wow," Emma said, "Did you guys practice that?"

They all looked at her in confusion.

"What?" David asked.

"You just… I don't know, it just seems like you guys were reading each other's minds or something. You know, like…" she trailed off as they all continued to look at her in confusion before a laugh bubbled out of her mouth, "Never mind, I guess it's to be expected since you've lived together for so long. Let's eat."

Everyone started passing dishes as Emma continued to marvel at the rhythm the three of them had and as she watched, she realized just how much she'd lost when she left. Her heart ached for a moment as she watched them fill each other's plates. They were a family and, for one horrible moment, she felt like an outsider.

David handed her the broccoli and she scooped some onto her plate. She started to hand it to Killian but then stopped, watching as he filled Mary Margaret's salad bowl. She remembered how much he loved the vegetable so she took it upon herself to pile a large serving onto his plate for him.

When he noticed what she'd done, he looked surprised for a second but then he gave her a heart-melting smile. "You remember?" he asked as he raised one eyebrow.

"How could I forget?" _And how could I forget how gorgeous he looked when he quirked those eyebrows?_ "You used to snatch mine all the time."

"This coming from the notorious french fry thief?" he grinned at her.

She shrugged, "Turnabout is fair play… and you never complained."

"Neither did you," he said as he scooped some of the broccoli into his mouth and winked at her.

Oh, how she'd missed this… Their back and forth banter, the easy camaraderie that came so naturally between them. She settled into her chair and picked up her fork noticing there was now a serving of potatoes on her plate that she hadn't put there. David must have done it while she was looking at Killian. She smiled softly to herself as she stuck her fork in one and popped it into her mouth. She wasn't an outsider. Not here. Not with her family. She glanced around at the three of them as she chewed. This was where she belonged.

After dinner, they all cleared the table together, David's arms elbow deep in suds as he scrubbed the pans while Killian and Emma loaded the plates and such into the dishwasher. Apparently Mary Margaret was particular about her cookware and required that it be hand-washed.

"I once put a skillet of hers in here and my ears were ringing for a week afterward," Killian faux whispered, which earned him a slap on the back of the head by the towel Mary Margaret was holding.

Once the kitchen was put to rights, they all wandered into the living room. Mary Margaret and David sat on the couch and Killian motioned Emma into the plush chair across from it, settling himself on the floor with his legs extended out in front of him as they continued to rehash old stories and catch up on new ones.

Apparently, the little old lady across the hall kept getting Killian confused with her grandson which led to him carrying in her groceries for her at least once a month. Mary Margaret was still deathly afraid of spiders and had to resort to calling the super last week to come over and kill one while David and Killian were both at work. And David's pick-up truck was _not_ going to be sold anytime soon ( _Hey – it's a classic!)._

Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this much as she glanced (again) at Killian, his face lit up with a smile. There had been a moment before dinner when he’d been tense and distracted and she'd worried that their friendship would never be the same but somewhere between her serving him broccoli and the story about David's last birthday party, he'd relaxed. _Thank god._

She leaned her head back on the chair and stretched her muscles, the combination of good food, good wine and casual conversation bringing her a sense of peace. She could do this. She could have this again. The four of them acting like dorks and teasing each other, laughing together and just… being a family.

She truly was home.

Time flew by too quickly and soon she saw Mary Margaret stifle a yawn and lay her head on David's shoulder, closing her eyes.

"I suppose we should get some sleep," David said kissing Mary Margaret on the top of the head, then added, turning to Emma, "I wouldn't want you to tank the interview tomorrow because we kept you up late talking."

Emma knew he was right, but she didn't feel the least bit tired. She was still on Chicago time, after all.

"Good night, you two," Mary Margaret said as David led her toward their bedroom.

"G'night," Killian echoed and stood up. She watched as he stretched and rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks in his muscles after sitting on the floor for too long and she couldn't help but appreciate the way his shirt tightened across his back, clinging to his muscular frame. Then he stepped forward and gathered a couple of the wine glasses to take to the kitchen.

Emma picked up the other two glasses and followed him, taking the opportunity to admire him while he wasn't looking. _Damn, those jeans fit great._

He stood at the sink and rinsed out the glasses then turned to take the two she'd brought in before depositing them all in the dishwasher. Grabbing a towel, he dried his hands as he turned to her.

"You can sleep in my room, if you like. I can take the couch." _Sleep in his room? Was he trying to kill her?_ "While I'm sure you'll be brilliant either way," he continued, hanging the towel on the rack, "you probably want to be well-rested for your interview."

Emma's heart glowed at the flippant statement. This was what she'd missed in Chicago, his complete faith in her. Trying to keep her face neutral even as her whole body warmed at his proximity, she replied, "Thanks, but you don't have to do that. I don't want to put you out. The couch is fine, really. If you could just grab a blanket - "

"Emma," he interrupted with a chuckle as he turned to face her and rested his hand on the counter next to hers, "do you really think I'm going to let you sleep on the couch? When will you ever catch on, Swan? I'm a gentleman. And a gentleman would never let a lady sleep on a couch while he slept in a bed."

"Oh, well, I guess - "

"Just let me grab some things and I'll be out of your way," he told her.

She watched him go and took a minute to catch her breath. Then, she returned to the living room to get her bag, rolling it down the hall to his room. When she entered, he was pulling out a pair of sweatpants from a drawer and she placed her bag next to his dresser.

She took a moment to look around the room. "It looks good with furniture," she commented and immediately regretted it. _What the hell was she thinking bringing that up?_

His eyes shot to hers at the statement, shock written all over his face as her cheeks flamed. Their gazes held for a moment, the air buzzing around them, before he said, "Yes, well, I figured it would be better than stacking my things on the floor."

She tore her eyes from him and smiled tightly, saying, "Yeah, I guess so."

To distract herself and hopefully diffuse some of the tension, she turned to her suitcase and opened it, listening as he opened and closed another drawer. The silence hung heavily as she scanned the contents of her bag and pulled out some dresses that need to be hung to drape them across the bed.

When she chanced another glance at him, he was gathering the clothes he'd collected in his hands and he started toward the door with a tight, "Good night, Swan."

"Killian?" she said, stopping him in the doorway as he turned to face her. "I…" She looked at him imploringly, trying to think of something to say that would make up for her blunder. She didn't want them at odds, and she opened and closed her mouth several times before giving in to defeat. Then, motioning at the room with her hand, she said, "Thanks for this."

He looked as conflicted as she felt when he drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then, shaking his head, he smiled, a sweet and understanding smile, and she realized she wasn't the only one who wanted the air cleared, "Anything for you, love," he murmured, and just like that the tension dissipated and she smiled back at him, "Sleep well."

"You, too," she replied, relief making her voice breathless. They remained still for another minute, smiling at each other, both grateful the awkward moment had passed before he nodded to her and left, closing the door behind him.

Alone, Emma glanced around the room again, taking her time to study it. It was so _him._ He'd always been neat as a pin and she grinned in amusement at the neatly folded corners of the bed. She took a moment to run her hand along the dresser, taking in the knickknacks he had set out. Then she noticed across the room on his chest there were several framed photographs. Curious, she walked over and inspected them. There was a faded black and white one of his mother that she'd seen while they were at college and one of he and Liam that she recognized as well, but in addition to those was a new one of the four of them on graduation day. A warm feeling filled her belly as she studied it, happy beyond anything that he had a photo of her (well, all of them, but at least he didn't cut her image out of it and since she was on the outside, he easily could have) sitting alongside the people he loved most in the world.

Turning away from the chest, she walked back to her suitcase and pulled out her pajamas. After she'd changed, she took out her earrings and laid them on the dresser next to the faded jewelry box there. It was his mother's, she knew, and she couldn't help but run her finger across it. The thought occurred to her that she liked seeing her things mixed up with his. So, she pulled out a bottle of lotion and laid it next to the earrings, then added her hairbrush as well. She shook her head at herself but left the items where they were. She then picked up the dresses off the bed and hung them in his closet, smiling again at how they looked lined up with his.

She heard water running from the bathroom and the telltale sound of someone brushing their teeth. She listened for a moment, waiting until she heard his footsteps as they padded past the door. Then she grabbed her own toothbrush and headed to the bathroom. After she'd brushed her teeth, she laid her toothbrush right next to his.

Smiling again to herself, she returned to his room. She settled into bed and rubbed her legs back and forth against the soft sheets before turning to bury her nose in one of the pillows. It _smelled_ like him. She inhaled deeply as she snuggled into it, sinking further into the mattress, warm and content with his scent all around her. She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly rubbing her cheek against his pillow. She was in Killian's bed again.

Vivid memories assaulted her of the last time she'd been in this room, in this bed. Technically, it hadn't been a bed, just a mattress on the floor, but what had happened on that mattress had haunted her for the past two years.

K&EK&EK&E

_As she pushed his jeans down his thighs, she was desperate to feel him. She didn't want to give him time to think, to reconsider what they were doing. If she could get him worked up fast enough, he wouldn't have time to reconsider. So she reached down and rubbed her hand over his erection and groaned in disbelief. He was hard as a rock beneath her palm. Determined to keep him that way, she moved her hands up his body, through the hair on his chest, kissing him desperately as they finally made it to the bed._

_They fell onto it together and she was about to reach for her bra but he caught both of her hands in his and stopped her, hovering above her. He didn't move for what seemed like an eternity, his body pulled back so that they weren't touching. She kept her eyes shut, terrified that she would open them and the dream would end. Terrified that he was reconsidering, she couldn't bear it if he stopped now._

_"Emma, open your eyes, darling," he requested and she was helpless to comply. Her heart was beating like trip hammer in her chest, dread knotting in her stomach as he traced a finger along her cheek to her chin, his eyes never leaving hers._

_"Emma, I - "_

_Scared that he was going to say they shouldn't do this, she pressed a finger to his mouth and resorted to begging. "Don't," she pleaded, "Please just… don't say anything. Just… touch me."_

_He swallowed hard but nodded and then his hands were moving again and his lips met hers, drawing a strained gasp from her throat. She immediately reached down and started tugging at his boxers, using her foot to wrestle them off his legs._

_The weight of him felt delicious as he licked and sucked from her ear down to her neck and around to the other side, whispering her name as he ground himself against her, his soft whisper a contradiction to the hard length of him pressed between her thighs. Her fingers knotted in the hair at the nape of his neck as he started moving down her body, kissing his way down over the mound of her breasts to her torso while his fingers hooked into her underwear and slipped them down her legs._

_His heated kisses kept moving lower as the underwear was tossed away, his mouth working its way all the way down to her knee and back up the inside of her thigh. Her legs fell open in surrender as a sigh escaped her mouth. He stopped just before he reached the spot that was aching for his attention and lifted his head, meeting her eyes as he pressed his hand against her center. Without preamble, he slid two fingers into her dripping wet passage and her body nearly bucked off the bed in pleasure._

_"Fuck," she said, arching her back and grinding herself down on his hand. Heat and need coiled in her stomach and burst outward to her skin. She leaned up on her forearms, wrestling with the clasp of her bra as he started a slow in and out rhythm with his hand. Then his head disappeared between her thighs as he used his tongue to lick a hot, wet stripe against her._

_The feeling had her falling back against the bed again – "god, right there" – even as she kept trying to remove the lingerie. His deep chuckle reverberated through her body making her shiver as he continued to work her, pushing her higher. She finally got the last bit of her clothing off and reached down to fist her hand in his hair and pull his lips back up to hers. His hand and mouth felt incredible but she didn't want to come around his fingers. She wanted him buried inside her when she fell apart and she wanted it now._

_Reaching for the bag she'd dropped next to the bed, she fished out a condom and used her teeth to tear it open. Killian had moved his mouth back down to her breasts and was drawing lazy circles around her nipple, but when he heard the sound of tearing, he stopped and looked up to her, his eyes darkening as he reached for the condom. But before he could put it on, Emma pushed against his chest and grabbed the arm that held it._

_"Wait," she whispered, "not yet."_

_She suddenly and desperately needed to taste him, so she applied more pressure to his chest and he flipped over, shutting his eyes and groaning loudly as he realized her intent. Moisture was already gathering at his tip and she used her thumb to draw a line of it down his length before using her tongue to wipe it clean. She moaned at the taste of him and heard an equally wrecked sound coming from him. Encouraged, she took him into her mouth, sucking and licking, sucking and licking, until his body started rocking gently in time with her strokes, his hand moving softly through her hair._

_His breath was coming in harsh gasps as he reached for her, pulling her up his body to ravish her mouth once more. He breathed her name as he flipped her onto her back and rubbed himself against her core._

_With a harsh curse, he pulled back to kneel between her legs and started rolling the condom on. Craving his warmth, she sat up to kiss his shoulder, working her way across his collarbone to the hollow of his neck, where she sucked hard._

_A sharp breath hissed between his teeth and he moved both of his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks and roughly pulling her head back just far enough so he could meet her eyes. His thumbs stroked her cheeks as he held her still, his mouth slightly open and breathing hard as his eyes darted from her mouth to her cheeks to her chin and back again, taking in everything about her, and for one insane moment she was sure she saw more than passion, more than desire, in his gaze._

_"You're beautiful," he whispered and her entire body shivered._

_Then he kissed her again, keeping her face held captive in his hands, only this time he kept it slow and sweet, taking his time as he rubbed his lips over hers, nibbling lightly then soothing them with his tongue, angling her head first one way and then the other as he leisurely explored her mouth._

_She moved her hands to his wrists, rubbing small circles with her thumbs and relished the way his mouth moved against hers, sensual, hot, and wet. He was kissing her like this_ meant _something to him. Something profound and big and scary and - god, she wanted to believe it._

_I love you, she thought over and over again, as he took his time, his lower lip moving across hers lightly then with more pressure as his tongue explored her mouth. He kept his body drawn away from hers so that only their mouths were touching and, somehow, this almost innocent act was more arousing and intimate than everything that had come before._

_When he broke his lips from hers, he stared into her eyes again, and she saw him swallow hard. His eyes were luminous in the faint light coming in from the window – blue, so incredibly blue – and she felt her own begin to sting, tears threatening to spill from the beauty of it all, her heart full to bursting as she lifted her hand to run it lightly through the hair at his temple. God, she_ loved _him._

_He breathed her name again, "Emma," and leaned his forehead against hers, rubbing his nose against hers over and over again as he slowly lowered her to her back._

_Emma's eyes drifted closed on a sigh as he lined up their bodies, one hand in her hair and the other gliding down her leg and lifting it over his hip. When the tip of his cock rubbed through her dripping folds, his whole body shuddered but he held himself still, poised at her entrance, hesitating._

_Desperate for him, she ran her hands down his and urged him to move, to fill emptiness with himself, all the while arching her hips to feel more of him. But he resisted her, pressing his thumb into her hip to hold her still._

_She opened her eyes to his, ready to beg him again, but as soon as their eyes met, he pushed forward, filling her in one long stroke._

_And, god, it felt incredible._

Moaning in her sleep, Emma rolled over and pulled the pillow closer to her body.


	7. Chatper 7

Killian repositioned himself on the couch, trying to get comfortable, listening for any movement from Emma. The bathroom door opened and he heard her quiet footsteps as she padded back to his room. She shuffled around for a few more moments before silence overtook the apartment.

In his mind's eye, he pictured her curled up in his bed with her hair fanned out on the pillow. He sighed with pleasure. Emma Swan was in his bed. He'd fantasized about her being there hundreds of times. But, of course, the fantasy had never included him sleeping on the couch, straining to hear any sound he could, he thought with a frown.

He rolled over again and looked toward the darkened hallway. She was only one closed door away. He was tempted to make up an excuse to go in. He could say he couldn't find his phone and he needed it for the alarm – then conveniently find it on the kitchen sink after…

No. He wouldn't resort to trickery. He was a man of honor and she'd see through the lie anyway. So he shifted again to stare up at the ceiling, calling to mind the way she'd hugged him when he arrived home, reliving it and smiling at the memory. The feeling of holding her again had been pure bliss.

The evening had been a series of ups and downs, his heart racing one second and body humming with contentment the next. He'd nearly forgotten what sweet torment it was to be in her presence.

God, he'd missed her. He hadn't realized how much until tonight (and that was saying something considering he'd spent the last two years longing to see her). But now, after spending the evening in her company, he'd been reminded of so many little things about her that he adored. The mischievous way she'd look up from under her lashes when she was trying not to laugh. The subtle taint of red that came to her cheeks anytime someone complimented her. How she shrugged with one shoulder and bit her lower lip when she was embarrassed.

She hadn't changed much in the past two years. Her hair was a little longer than it had been and she was slower to laugh than she used to be. He doubted anyone else had noticed but he'd made a study of her long ago and the differences were definitely there. The one that concerned him, though, was the subtle hollowness behind her eyes. He ached as he remembered the way she'd looked at them when they sat down to dinner, a little lost and uncertain in that moment. But she'd settled as the night went on (possibly something to do with the wine).

Then, in his bedroom, when she'd made the comment about his furniture, she'd closed back up. He knew she'd regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth and he'd have done anything to ease the stiffness in her shoulders. He'd wanted to reach out and massage the muscles in her neck to put her at ease but he also knew that it wouldn't have worked. Touching her would have just made her retreat even more and, at the very least, he was determined to get them back to where they used to be while she was in town.

His stomach clenched at the thought of her going back to Chicago. Something had happened there, he was sure of it. Something she wasn't talking about. In fact, she's barely mentioned anything about her time away while they'd talked tonight, deflecting all the questions put to her with a wave of her hand and saying something like, "Let's not talk about that, I'd rather hear what's been happening here," or, "It wasn't that interesting. What have you guys been up to?" Whatever it was, she didn't want to talk about it.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was exhausted to the point where his head ached and his limbs were heavy with fatigue, but he couldn't turn his mind off. He wanted to know what was going on with her. Had she been hurt? Had she had a fight with a boyfriend? The possibility ripped through him with crushing pain. Did she even have a man in her life? She hadn't mentioned one and he certainly wasn't going to ask but the thought had lingered in his mind all evening.

(Who was he kidding, the thought had been there for the past two years, his heart racing every time Mary Margaret mentioned talking to her, fervently praying that a man's name would not be included in the rehashing of their conversation.)

No, he was almost certain there wasn't a man in her life. If there was, Mary Margaret would have asked about him tonight. But there had been no questions about who she was dating, if she was dating, how long it had been since her last date – nothing. And if anyone would ask those kinds of questions, it would be Mary Margaret.

He repositioned the pillow under his head, his eyes getting heavy…

Still, there was something going on. Her eyes didn't shine the way they used to and she was more reserved than he remembered. Except when she'd first seen him… Her smile had been completely unguarded in the moment before she'd hugged him.

His mouth quirked up in a tired smile as his body relaxed into the cushions…

And now she was in his bed, her incredible body curled up underneath his navy comforter…

What he wouldn't give to be curled up next to her…

He burrowed his head into the pillow, his fingers clutching the blanket as he imagined pulling her body closer...

(yawn)…

itching to run his thumb down her spine as she snuggled her head onto his shoulder…

(groan)…

imagining her hand running across his bare chest...

as he kissed her on the forehead…

threaded his fingers in her hair…

(sigh)…

Her hand straying lower…

Down… his… stomach… to…

Sleep finally claimed him as his breathing evened out and his eyes drifted closed.

…

…

The sound of someone rustling around in the kitchen penetrated his sleep as light poured in through the window. He grumbled and pulled the blanket further over his head, trying to slip back into the oblivion of the dream he'd been having of Emma laid out in his bed, rumpled and naked as he moved against her, her nails digging into his back as he moaned and –

_Bloody hell!_

His eyes shot open as he realized the sound had actually escaped his mouth.

_Fuck!_

He was in the living room, in plain sight of everyone, hard as a rock and moaning in his sleep.

He heard a door open down the hall and quickly turned his body toward the back of the couch to hide his obvious erection, slamming his eyes shut and feigning sleep.

Someone passed by him on their way to the kitchen (he realized it was Emma as her scent wafted over him and his already hardened cock strained even more). He took several deep breaths and tried to think of something else, his sixth year algebra teacher or something equally unpleasant to get his body under control. But he could hear Emma laugh lightly at something Mary Margaret said and his body just _wouldn't cooperate._

He needed a cold shower, a very cold shower. As silently as he could, he eased from the couch and tiptoed down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning up against it.

 _Fuck, this was ridiculous!_ he thought as he winced at the discomfort in his groin. He shuffled over to sink down on his bed, bracing his head in his hands. He hadn't woken in this state for years and, of course, it would have to happen when he was sprawled out on the living room sofa for everyone to see. He adamantly prayed that neither of the women had noticed anything as they'd passed by him.

Drawing another deep breath, he flopped back onto the bed (Emma had made it up for him, he thought with a smile) and turned his head into the pillow – which was a terrible mistake.

It smelled like her. He could smell her all around him, the honeyed scent penetrating his senses, reminding him of springtime and blonde hair and – _dammit._

He sprang back up from the bed as though burned and a laugh bubbled out of his throat at the situation. _She'd turned him into a blasted horny teenager_. He saw some of her things sitting on his dresser and picked up a bottle of lotion she'd left there. Feeling only slightly silly, he opened it and sniffed the contents.

_Damnation, this was like torture._

Replacing the bottle, he lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck and looked back at the bed - the bed Emma had slept in last night. The thought brought to mind images of her sprawled beneath him, naked and gasping and –

Swallowing hard, he turned away from the bed and the memories it held, laid his hands flat on the dresser and leaned forward, closing his eyes.

Cold shower. Now.

He turned to his closet to grab some clothes. Pulling it open, he stopped short when he saw several of her dresses hanging in line next to his work clothes. Hot pink silk caught his attention, the sight so shockingly foreign to him, and he couldn't help but reach out and run his hand over the soft material, his fingers brushing it lightly. His thoughts immediately went to a picture of Emma wearing it. The silk would be no match for her creamy skin and –

No – Cold shower. Now. As he gathered his things, he couldn't help but think how _right_ it looked to see their clothes mixed together and he smiled softly.

He made his way to the bathroom (being careful to keep his clothes inconspicuously in front of him) and sighed with relief when he made it undetected.

He laid his things on the vanity and noticed a feminine bag sitting there filled with make-up and skin creams – and a red toothbrush lined up next to his green one. He kept staring at the toothbrush as he stripped off his clothes and turned on the spray. Closing the shower door, he let the frigid water run down his heated skin and closed his eyes.

K&EK&EK&E

_He knew he'd completely lost control of the situation, she'd wrestled it right from his hands but – fuck – what a beautiful sight it was to see the woman he loved with her mouth licking and sucking at him. And the sounds she was making... the way it went through his entire body as she hummed in pleasure around him._

_He could feel his orgasm start to build and he had to stop her, slow things back down, or he was going to embarrass himself, so he pulled her up and flipped her onto her back._

_Cursing, he knelt back to put the condom on but she was impatient. She followed him and used that incredible mouth of hers to kiss his along his shoulder, almost distracting him to the point where he couldn't even work the condom on._

_He had to look at her, had to study her face and imbed it into his memory. So he cupped her cheeks with both hands and held her still so that he could look his fill. God, she was beautiful and he couldn't help but tell her before kissing her again, trying to convey to her through the kiss what he felt for her._

_So he kept his mouth slow, switching from one angle to another and back again, tugging lightly on her bottom lip with his teeth, delighting in the jolt that went through her body._

_Then her hands were at his wrists, and for a moment he thought she was going to try to take control again but instead, she started rubbing small circles into his wrists with her thumbs as she relaxed into the leisurely kiss. Their tongues rubbed against each other languidly, even as hot need blossomed in his belly, the urge to push her back and claim her sizzling through his veins. But he couldn't stop kissing her, not yet. He needed her to understand, so he continued to brush his lips against hers, trying to tell her how amazing she was, how long he'd waited for this, how much he loved her. The thought pounding through his head so loud he was surprised she didn't hear it._

_When their eyes met again, he saw tears gathering at the edges of hers. But more than that, he could have sworn he saw something else, something he'd longed to see for years. In that moment he knew, he was sure of it, this wasn't just physical for her either, it was something much more than that._

_Much more._

_Just the thought that she returned even a fraction of what he felt for her was almost too much and his restraint broke. He lowered her to her back and lined himself up, dizzy with the possibility that this meant as much to her as it did to him._

_He held still and waited for her to look at him again, wanting to see her face as he took her, and when she did, he pushed forward into her warmth._

_And, god, it felt incredible._

_It felt like love._

_Her passage was so wet that he met no resistance as he slid home, stopping for a moment to watch as her eyes drifted shut, her sigh echoing his own._

_He buried his face in her neck as he began to move, rocking his hips against hers lightly over and over and over again. Her hands were rubbing lazily up and down his back, a feathered caress that sent shivers through him._

_"Perfect," she whispered, her voice breathless and awestricken, "God, it's perfect."_

_And it was._

_It was perfect._

_And glorious._

_And overwhelming._

_"It is," he groaned into her neck, pushing his nose into the hammering pulse there._

_Gasps and sighs filled the quiet room as they moved in time with each other, slowly at first, then gradually increasing the tempo. He felt her nails against his arse, digging into his flesh and his hips snapped into hers causing her to buck against him in reaction._

_He changed the angle slightly and she gasped, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging, "right there," as she bit down on his shoulder. Fueled by her words, he increased the pace, hitting her deep with each thrust, reveling in the drawn out groan he pulled from her. Twining his fingers in her hair and slipping his other arm beneath her, he pulled her closer and found her mouth with his before running his lips along her cheek to her temple._

_She rose to meet him thrust for thrust, grinding against him with her face burrowed into his throat as the pace increased to a frenzied level, hips snapping together hard and fast. Their mouths met in a sloppy kiss and their teeth clashed together, both careening closer to the edge, both holding on to the other as tightly as they could, gasping and moaning, hearts thundering, blood racing and –_

_They came apart in the same moment, their bodies shaking with the force of it and crying out at the magnitude of the feeling._

_He didn't want it to end, so he rocked into her a few more times until she stopped him by pulling him as deep as possible and holding him there with a final sigh._

_"Amazing," he gasped as he caught his breath, rubbing his lips back and forth on her shoulder, before leaning up on his elbow to give her a soft smile._

_She blushed and hummed in the back of her throat, stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers as she drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes._

_Slowly he eased himself off of her and excused himself to dispose of the condom. When he returned, she was already asleep, her breathing even and her hair in wild disarray on the pillow. He crawled back into the bed and nestled her into his side, covering them both with a blanket and relishing in the way her hand rubbed back and forth across his chest. The enormity of what had just happened holding him speechless, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her body tighter to his. Before long, he heard her light snore and her hand stilled._


	8. Chapter 8

She'd nailed it.

Emma walked out of the sheriff's department with a smile on her face and an energy in her step that she'd been lacking for a long time. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the sunny sky and laughed out loud.

She wanted to celebrate. She'd been expecting to be sent away without knowing if she got the job but Sheriff Graham had told her she could start whenever she wanted.

On impulse, she stopped in a flower shop across the street and bought a colorful arrangement of daisies to thank David, Mary Margaret and Killian for letting her crash.

The smell of the ocean drifted across her senses and she smiled. She wanted to call Killian and tell him the news but she didn't have his number anymore. Pulling out her phone, she called David instead – but he'd already heard so she hung up quickly and called Mary Margaret who David had already called and – dammit – she wanted to _tell somebody._

"Seriously? David already called you? _I_ wanted to be the one to tell you," she whined.

"Well, I haven't called Killian yet. You could be the first to tell him. Let me call David and tell him not to call him and then you can at least tell someone," she suggested.

"Ok, but I don't have his number," Emma admitted.

"I'll text it to you," she said and hung up quickly.

She got the text a few minutes later with a message stating that David had not, in fact, told Killian yet. Butterflies filled her stomach and she started to dial the number but then she stopped and changed her mind.

She didn't want to call him. She wanted to be with him so she could see his reaction. She wanted to see his smile and share this with him in person.

She hopped in her beetle and started heading for the docks, thinking back to this morning's breakfast and the way he'd plopped down next to her and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

"Now I know why Mary Margaret bought this," he'd said as he poked the Fruit Loops box with his spoon. "I should have known you were coming the moment I saw it in the pantry."

"You mean you don't keep it in stock?" she'd responded, "It used to be your favorite."

"And it still is," he'd told her as he scooped some onto his spoon, "but, alas – Mary Margaret doesn't like me as much she likes you. I only get it when _I_ do the grocery shopping."

"Which he avoids at all costs," David had chimed in with a chuckle.

The entire morning had been light-hearted an easy… The perfect way to start her day… Especially when she'd mentioned she was nervous about the interview and Killian had turned to her, rubbed his hands up and down her arms and told her not to worry, "You're going to be brilliant, Swan," then he'd given her an encouraging smile and a wink before heading out the door for work.

She pulled in next to the small office at the docks and jumped out of the car. As an afterthought, she grabbed the flowers she'd picked up and walked inside.

There was a pretty redhead sitting at the reception desk who looked up with a sweet smile and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Is Killian Jones available?" she asked.

The redhead gave the flowers in her hand a questioning look but said, "Yeah, I'll get him," and popped up to walk through the door behind her.

A few minutes later Killian emerged from the same door and the moment he saw her his face lit up with a smile.

"Swan, what a pleasant surprise! What have I done to deserve this honor?"

Pulling the flowers from behind her back, she announced, "I got it. I got the job!"

She didn't know how he would react but picking her up and spinning her around would never have crossed her mind until she landed on her feet in front of him.

His smile was beaming as he said, "Congratulations! I knew you would."

She basked in the glow for a moment, her arms wrapped around his neck, when she heard someone discreetly clearing their throat. She turned to see the redhead looking between the two of them questioningly before Killian released her, saying, "Emma, this is Ariel, she does all of the booking for the tours. Ariel, Emma here is the new sheriff in town."

Emma rolled her eyes at the phrase but held out a hand to shake Ariel's as the redhead said, "It's so nice to meet you."

"You, too," Emma replied.

A short silence followed while Ariel looked back and forth between the two of them, a strange smile lighting her features. Taking the flowers from Emma, she said, "I've got a vase in the back from the last time Eric sent me some flowers. I'll just put these in water while you two… talk." Then she disappeared through the door again.

Alone and suddenly nervous, Emma tucked her hands in her back pockets, drew a deep breath and looked around the room, "So… This is all yours?"

"Yep, all mine," he replied rocking back on his heels, "Would you like the grand tour?" he asked. Not waiting for her answer, he went on, "Here's the reception area, through that door is the storage room and that door is to my office. And, that's pretty much it. End of tour," he said, scratching at the back of his neck, "I'd show you the boats but they're all out right now."

"But, how can all of the boats be out if you're here? I thought you did the tours."

"Well, I used to but I don't get out as much anymore. I've got some guys who work for me who handle most of them… but I do get out now and then. Last night, for example, was Ariel's and Eric's anniversary, so I took his tour so they could go to dinner."

"Killian is a darling like that," Ariel said as she re-entered the room and placed the flowers on the reception desk. Glancing at the clock, she added, "The Swan is due back from its outing in about 15 minutes, if you'd like to wait."

"The Swan?" Emma asked turning to Killian, "You named one of your boats after me?"

"Yes, well," he bent his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking up at her from under his lashes, "she's the, uh, first boat I bought when I started out. It… just seemed appropriate since, you know, you'd always encouraged me to…" his face flushed furiously as he trailed off.

Emma didn't know what to say. She stared at him for a long moment, shocked into silence as he continued to shuffle nervously in front of her.

Then, he cleared his throat as he crossed to the reception desk and fingered at one of the flowers, "I must admit, Swan, I've never had a woman buy me flowers before."

Jolted out of her stupor at his comment, she replied, "Oh, well, it was an impulse really, I just wanted to celebrate and I saw the flower shop and I just, uh, I just… bought them."

"Ah," he said with a lift of his chin, studying her face carefully, his hand arrested on the flowers as he continued to rub his fingers over one of the petals.

Her heart was beating a little too fast in her chest as he watched her and the world around them faded away. It felt like he was looking for something, something he expected to find in her eyes. She held her breath as he searched for it, keeping her eyes on his, and even though she didn't know what he was looking for, she hoped desperately that he'd find it.

The moment was broken when the cell phone in his pocket started buzzing, but he didn't reach for it right away, seemingly reluctant to end his search. On the third ring, he finally snapped back to reality and pulled the phone out.

Glancing at it, he said, "It's Mary Margaret," before putting the phone to his ear. "Hello? Yes, she's right here… yeah… okay… that sounds fine. Let me ask her."

He turned to Emma. "Mary Margaret and David want to go out to dinner tonight to celebrate. How does Italian sound?"

"Perfect," Emma replied, both relieved and disappointed by the distraction. Turning away, she met Ariel's eyes for an instant, and she couldn't help but wonder why the girl was smiling at her the way she was.

"Did you hear that?" Killian was saying into the phone, "Italian is fine… No, I won't be late... Yes, I'll see you then. Bye."

When he hung up, silence ensued again as Emma searched desperately for something to say. Her mind was completely blank, and if the look on his face was any indication, Killian was feeling the same way.

After a moment, Ariel piped up, "Italian, huh? That sounds nice."

Killian turned to Ariel, and clearing his throat, replied, "Yeah, Mary Margaret heard of a new place from one of her chef friends that is supposed to be excellent. She thought we could give it a try."

There was another long pause as Ariel glanced between them again, and for some reason, Emma found it hard to look either of them in the eye.

"Well," Emma spoke at last, the word practically exploding from her mouth, and she winced slightly, "I should let you get back to work. I just wanted to stop by and tell you about the job. So… I'll see you back at the apartment?"

"Yeah, okay," he replied, sounding a little breathless, and she made a hasty retreat toward the door.

Once she was back in her car and heading back to the apartment, she drew a deep breath, her mind reeling. Killian had named a boat after her? He'd said it was because she'd encouraged him? For the life of her, she didn't know what he was talking about. She'd never… It had always been him encouraging her, not the other way around. Right?

But he'd named his first boat after her. The _first_ one, which meant he must have named it either right before or right after she'd left.

She entered the apartment in a daze and went straight to Killian's room, flopping back on the bed. Maybe she was making too big a deal out of it. It was just a boat. It didn't have to _mean_ anything. They were friends… It wasn't anything more than that.

Right?

K&EK&EK&E

_She didn't know what woke her but, when she opened her eyes, she realized that her head was still planted on Killian's chest. Carefully, she lifted her head and looked up at him. He looked so peaceful in sleep and she reached out to rub her hand along the scruff on his jaw. When she did, he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like her name and he shifted slightly, his arm twitching on her back. She sighed contentedly as she laid her head back down and hugged him across his middle, comfortable and warm curled up next to him._

_She fleetingly wondered how many women had been in this exact position and her heart sank._

_But she wouldn't dwell on that._

_He was her friend and she knew she wasn't just another conquest to him. He cared about her. If he hadn't they probably would have ended up here a lot sooner. Maybe they had always been leading up to this, the sexual tension building, waiting for the moment when they were both ready to explode. And what an explosion it had been. The memory alone would be enough to fuel her dreams for months, possibly years. She smiled, basking in his warmth, and she turned her head to press a kiss into his skin._

_All his talk was definitely founded in reality._

_Practice does make perfect, after all, she thought wryly._

_Her eyes lifted to the window. The sun was already rising and there was a soft orange glow filling the room. She needed to get moving. She wanted to get on the road as early as possible. Dread filled her stomach as she rubbed her cheek against his chest, wishing she could stay here forever._

_But – she_ had _to go. She couldn't stay here. She was still searching for her home and she wouldn't stop until she found it._

_Still, the thought of saying goodbye to him made something in her chest tighten. She'd always known that it wasn't going to be easy but now –_

_Now it would be nearly impossible._

_God, she wouldn't be able to handle it, she realized. She just knew she wouldn't. She wouldn't be able to look him in the eye and say goodbye._

_Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She didn't realize she was crying until her fingers ran through the moisture on his chest. Tears streamed silently from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him again, gripping him tight. Her body trembled as she held back a sob, and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears. Sniffling lightly, she gulped down another sob as she eased away from him, trying to be as quiet as possible and cursing herself as the coward she was._

_She just_ couldn't handle _this._

_She needed to go. Now._

_As quietly as she could, she slipped from the bed and gathered her clothes from around the room, watching him the entire time for any sign that he might be waking. She went out to the empty living room where she found her sweater and her shoes._

_Once she was dressed, she couldn't resist going back in to run her fingers through his hair one last time. When she placed a soft kiss on his forehead, he shifted and said her name (it was definitely her name this time) and she startled. She held completely still for a solid minute before taking a step back._

_She had to go._

_With a heavy heart and wet cheeks, she made her way out of the apartment and back to the club where her car was parked._


	9. Chapter 9

The restaurant was incredible. The atmosphere was quaint and beautiful with fresh flowers everywhere and soft candlelight.

Perfect, really, for a first date.

But this wasn't really a date. Killian knew that.

It wasn't even the first time the four of them had gone out to dinner together. But it was the first time in a place like this… with white linen tablecloths and crystal champagne flutes (definitely a step up from the bar food they used to share).

And she _was_ sitting right next to him… the smell of her perfume surrounding him, her hand resting on the table in between their plates… And occasionally their arms would brush against each other (he wasn't doing it intentionally, really, he wasn't) and –

He knew it wasn't a date… but it sure felt like one.

He stole a glance at her as she lifted her glass (he had insisted on buying a bottle of champagne to celebrate), a smile lighting her face. She looked stunning – and he'd told her as much when she'd emerged from his bedroom, dressed in a flowing peach dress and matching heels. She'd flushed adorably at the compliment and his heart had swelled in his chest.

Mary Margaret and David were sitting across from them and, as always, they were connected _._ It seemed the two of them couldn't go more than a few minutes in each other's company without touching in some way. It wasn't blatant or anything. In fact, Killian doubted that either of them were even aware they did it. It's just who they were, and Killian always felt a twinge of jealousy when he noticed it. Presently, David had his hand covering Mary Margaret's on the table as she relayed a story about one of her new sous chefs causing a small fire in the restaurant the week before.

They all laughed as Mary Margaret turned to Emma and asked, "So, will you need help packing up your stuff in Chicago? I could take some time off and go out there with you, if you want. We're just so happy you're going to be staying. It's like a dream come true."

To Killian's surprise, Emma responded, "Actually, I don't have anything left in Chicago. I sold it all before I came here."

"Feeling that confident, were you?" David asked.

"Actually, no, I wasn't," she said looking at Killian out of the corner of her eye. It felt like there was something significant in that look but before he had time to analyze it, she continued, "I just knew that I couldn't stay there anymore. I needed to come back. I'd actually been planning to for months when you called and I just figured if I didn't get the job, I'd look for something else."

Killian opened his mouth to ask but David beat him to it.

"Did something happen?" David said.

"No," she replied (a little too quickly for Killian's taste). When they all continued to stare at her, she insisted, "It wasn't anything, really. I promise. I just… wanted to come back."

She sounded convincing enough and Killian could see that David and Mary Margaret were buying it but Killian knew better. She was lying. There was definitely more to the story. But he wasn't going to push it. Not now, anyway. This wasn't the right time, but eventually he was going to get her to tell him, he vowed to himself.

"Well," Mary Margaret said, looking from Emma to Killian and back again, "It must have been fate."

"Absolutely," David agreed.

Emma chuckled, "I don't believe in fate, but I'm very happy it worked out."

"So am I," Killian said. "It's good to have you back, love."

"Thanks," she said and gave him a smile, "It's good to be back."

She was still smiling at him when David asked, "So, when are you going to start the new job? Graham already called me today to see if I knew."

"A week, maybe. I just need some time to get settled."

"I guess you'll need to find an apartment," Mary Margaret said, "Do you want some help with that? Not that we're trying to get rid of you - you're welcome to stay as long as you want."

Emma laughed at that. "That's sweet, but I'm sure Killian wants his room back. Sleeping on the couch has to be uncomfortable and I imagine it will wreak havoc on his love life, too."

David snorted into his glass and started to respond but Killian cut him off, "No worries, Swan. As Mary Margaret said, stay as long as you like. You won't cramp my style and I find the couch quite cozy."

David snorted again but it turned into a wince as Mary Margaret warningly tightened her grip on his hand. He pulled his hand away from hers and shook out his fingers giving her a confused look.

Killian silently thanked Mary Margaret. His love life (or lack thereof) was not a topic of discussion he wanted to have in front of Emma.

Emma had obviously noticed their friends' strange behavior and was looking at the pair curiously, a question in her eyes, but the moment was broken as the waiter appeared with their desserts.

 _Perfect timing,_ Killian thought, relieved. He made a mental note to add 5% to the guy's tip, as the waiter set a plate down in front of him and one in front of David.

Emma and Mary Margaret hadn't ordered one (naturally) but Mary Margaret had no qualms about grabbing her fork and stealing a bite from David.

"Research," she said innocently as she chewed.

David shook his head but smiled at her. He had no sooner turned back to his plate before she snatched another forkful.

"Hey," he said laughing.

"For Emma," Mary Margaret told him and held the fork across the table.

Emma quirked a smile at David and accepted the offered confection, humming in the back of her throat and closing her eyes. The sound pricked something in the back of Killian's mind and his cheeks went red when he remembered the last time he'd heard that sound from her mouth.

When Mary Margaret turned her attention to Killian's dessert saying, "That looks good," he rolled his eyes and held his plate out across the table for her, resigned to sharing (like they always did) and laughed when she took a bite, closed her eyes and said with her mouth full, "Oh my god. David, you have to try this. Emma, you too. That is fabulous."

David didn't hesitate to reach across the table and sink his fork in for a bite as Killian said, "Oi!" and stole a bite from David's in retaliation. Emma chuckled next to him.

Sticking his fork back in his own dessert, Killian faced her.

"Your turn, Swan."

Smiling, she opened her mouth and accepted the offered bite, closing her lips over his fork as he slowly pulled it from her mouth. Her eyes locked to his for a moment before she closed them and groaned again as she chewed slowly. The sound had the hairs on his neck standing on end and he swallowed hard, thankful that her eyes were closed. A movement caught his attention from across the table and he saw David looking at Mary Margaret again, then David's eyes shot back across the table to he and Emma. A look of understanding lit his features and he smiled.

That's when it hit him.

Killian's eyes flew to Mary Margaret's. She _knew_ … She had figured out why he hadn't been dating. _How long had she known?_

A hazy memory floated to his mind as they looked at each other and he suddenly recalled a drunken conversation he'd had with her a couple of months after Emma had left.

He'd spent those couple of months after losing her doing his best to drown her memory in any woman who was willing. At first, he'd tried hanging out in pubs, getting drunk and hooking up with any random woman he could find. But contrary to what Emma had always believed, that wasn't his style and after a few attempts, he stopped, knowing he would just feel more empty the next morning. So then he started dating. He went on date after date, but he always ended up comparing them to Emma and none of them ever got close.

After one exceptionally disastrous night, he'd come home and opened a bottle of rum, set on the couch and was in the process of getting plastered when Mary Margaret had appeared and snatched the bottle away from him. He didn't remember the entire conversation, but suddenly, as he looked at her, he could hear the distant memory clear as day as he'd told her, "She's gone. She didn't even let me say goodbye…"

"Delicious," Emma said, bringing him back to the present. He turned just in time to see her eyes open. She'd missed the entire exchange.

 _Thank the heavens_ , he thought.

When they got back to the apartment, Mary Margaret and David excused themselves quickly, claiming exhaustion. Emma's brow wrinkled in confusion over their friends' strange behavior but she didn't comment on it.

Instead, she turned to Killian, looking nervous as she bit at her lower lip, and asked, "Can we talk for a while?"

Killian's heartrate spiked with apprehension as he nodded. "Of course. Would you like a drink first?"

"Yeah, that would be good," she said.

They settled on the couch a few minutes later, Emma holding a glass of wine and his sitting on the coffee table next to the open bottle.

Then, turning and propping one of his arms on the back of the couch, he asked, "What shall we talk about, love?"

"I… I just wondered something…"

At her hesitation, he encouraged her by saying, "I'll tell you anything you want to know, Emma."

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. "When did you name your boat 'The Swan'?" she asked.

Her eyes opened to his as soon as the question was out and he met her gaze steadily as he replied, "The moment I bought it."

Emma nodded and looked down at her glass of wine, studying it in her lap for a second before she looked up again and went on, "Today you said I encouraged you to buy it. I don't know… I don't remember doing that."

Killian drew his eyebrows together in confusion, "What do you mean, you don't remember? All those times we sat up all night talking in my dormitory? You told me time and again to follow my dreams, to do something that would make me happy."

"But I never told you to buy a boat. You never even told me you were thinking about it. One day you just announced that you had."

"You never told me you were applying for a job in Chicago, either," he commented quietly.

She swallowed hard before replying, "Yeah, I guess I didn't."

He wanted to ask her why. They had shared everything back then but she had kept that from him and he'd always wondered why.

She drained the rest of the wine in her glass and leaned forward to lay it on the table next to his. She wrung her hands together as she answered the unspoken question, "I just knew… I knew if I told you – any of you – what I was thinking, you'd try to talk me out of it. And I wanted… I _needed_ to go."

"Why?" he asked softly.

She looked over to the glasses on the table, her hands still clamped together on her lap, and said, "Because of something Neal once said to me."

Killian's jaw clenched at the mention of Neal but he kept his voice even as he asked, "And what did he say?"

"He told me that home is the place you miss after you leave," she said, staring steadily at him, "I never really had a home growing up. I was bounced around from place to place for so long - and I never missed any of them. I just needed to - " she cut off as tears sprang to her eyes and she cleared her throat, looking away again, as she continued in a rush, "I needed to figure out, for sure, if this was home. And I did… A few months ago I realized that – " she stopped speaking abruptly, shaking her head and taking a deep breath, "I would have come back sooner but I wasn't sure if… I didn't know if you'd want me to."

_Didn't know if he'd want her to come back?_

"Emma..." he said and started to reach out to her, scooting closer to her on the couch until their knees were touching. He wished she would look at him. If she would just bloody look at him, she'd see…

But she stubbornly kept her eyes downcast as she said, "I never heard from you after I left and I thought maybe you were - "

They both startled as the door down the hall opened, Emma sliding back on the couch to put some distance between them. David appeared in the doorway and, taking in the scene in front of him, said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt… I just remembered that I forgot to set the coffeepot for in the morning. I've got an early day."

Emma jumped off the couch in a rush. "That's okay," she said quickly, "I was about to hit the sack, anyway. I think the champagne and wine are getting to me. I'll see you guys in the morning."

Killian stood as well and reached out as if to stop her as she hurried from the room, practically running David over as she made her escape. He had a mind to follow her and actually took two steps toward the hallway before he stopped. He knew from experience that pushing Emma was never a good idea, especially when she had the vulnerable and lost look in her eyes, but –

"You okay?" David asked.

Killian glanced at David before huffing out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Shaking his head, he replied, "I don't know, mate."

David kept still, watching him, and Killian reached up to scratch the back of his neck. He picked up the wine bottle and their glasses and headed to the kitchen, David following close behind. The silence continued as David readied the coffee maker and Killian rinsed out the glasses but Killian could see him looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"So," David said quietly, "it was always her, huh?"

"Yeah," Killian said, placing the cork back in the bottle with great precision.

"I get it now. And I don't know why I didn't see it sooner. Mary Margaret did. I used to wonder from time to time but when she told us she was leaving, I just figured I was wrong."

Killian turned to his friend, "I just didn't know how to tell her. After Neal and everything, I just… and then she left."

"She had to go," David said with certainty, leaning back on the counter and bracing himself on his arms.

Killian looked to him curiously, silently asking him to continue.

David shrugged and added, "She told us the morning she left. She _had_ to go. She just kept saying it over and over again. It wasn't that she wanted to leave. It was like she didn't have a choice. We asked her why but she wouldn't answer. She just said she had her reasons… I still don't know what they were, she never told me or Mary Margaret… but she's back, now. My advice: Don't let her go again."

"I don't plan to," he said with resolve, his heart lifting as David spoke, realizing that she'd just told him something she'd never told David or Mary Margaret.

When he returned to the couch and settled in for the night, his resolve continued to strengthen, everything that had happened since she'd returned running through his head.

Her rushing into his arms when he walked into the kitchen yesterday.

Her whispered, "I missed you."

Piling broccoli onto his plate.

The look on her face when he'd offered her his room.

Coming to his office with flowers to share the news about her job.

Her confession about why she'd left in the first place.

There was something about the reason she came back that she still hadn't told him. She'd been about to tonight on the couch but then she'd stopped. And while he'd still been wondering what she'd left out, she'd confessed that she wasn't sure he'd want her back.

_Of course he wanted her to come back. How could she not know that?_

_Because you never told her, you sodding idiot._

He'd been so blinded by his pride and heartache, that he'd never attempted to contact her and - _bloody hell_ \- she really _had_ invited him for Christmas and he'd turned her down. The realization hit him like a hammer to the gut, causing him to bolt up-right on the couch and rub his hands over his face. He'd inadvertently hurt her and reinforced her belief that he didn't care. _Dammit!_

They'd both had been trying to protect themselves from the other and making themselves miserable in the process.

Well, that was about to change. They'd been at cross purposes for far too long.

He grinned as he laid back down and thought about how best to approach her tomorrow. She'd gotten away from him once but he wasn't going to let that happen again.

K&EK&EK&E

_Floating on a euphoric wave of contentment, Killian drifted into consciousness. His muscles were deliciously sore and his head fuzzy as he basked in the memory of the night before._

_It was everything he'd ever dreamed of and more and he hummed as a smile spread across his face. Incredible, mind-numbing, beautiful._

_Longing for her warmth, he rolled over and reached for her, but his hand found nothing as it glided along the mattress. His eyes popped open, his hand gripping at the cool sheets, and it took his befuddled mind another moment to comprehend that the spot next to him was empty._

_"Emma?" he mumbled, the word echoing through the empty room._

_The serene happiness in his soul was replaced rapidly by paralyzing fear. He sat up quickly and scanned the room. Her clothes were gone._

_She didn't –_

_No, no, no, no, no._

_"Emma?" he called out, holding his breath, hoping she was just in the bathroom. He knew in the back of his mind that she wasn't, he knew she was gone but his heart couldn't help but strain to hear any indication that she was just in the next room._

_So he listened, holding his breath until his lungs burned, praying that she'd walk back through the door, praying that she wouldn't do this, just leave like this. When his ears were met with nothing but silence, he threw the covers back and dived for his clothes._

_No. This wasn't happening. She wouldn't -_

_His eyes flew to the window and he realized that the sun was already high in the sky. He scrambled to find his phone, checking the time. Bloody hell, he'd slept late and she was planning to get an early start for Chicago. Panic ate at his gut, making its way from his stomach up to his throat, causing him to clench his jaw and swallow hard._

_He dressed in a frenzy, haphazardly pulling his shirt on as he darted out the door and made a mad dash for his car. He raced back to the dorms, cursing every stoplight along the way, his hand pounding the steering wheel in frustration._

_He had to get there. He had to see her._

_Please be there, he thought. Please, please, please._

_When he pulled into the parking lot, his eyes scanned the cars and hers was nowhere to be found._

_No, she can't be gone. She can't._

_Terror seemed to give him extra human abilities as he tore into the dorm, taking all the steps two at a time and running outright to her room once he reached her floor. The door was open as he approached and he slid to an undignified stop by grabbing the jam._

_But she wasn't there._

_His eyes wild and his breathing labored, he saw David and Mary Margaret filling boxes. "Where is she?" he gasped, holding the door for support._

_David looked at him in confusion. "She left about an hour ago," he said._

_Oh please, God, no._

_She was gone. She'd left him alone in bed after the most incredible night of his life and hadn't even…_

_For a moment, he thought his knees were going to give out, that he would simply collapse onto the floor under the pressing weight of pain._

_"She told us she said goodbye to you last night," Mary Margaret said gently._

_If possible, the softly spoken words made the agony in his being worse. Goodbye. She'd been saying goodbye. What a fool he was. What a completely besotted and utter fool._

_He turned and leaned back against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut as his heart beat painfully in his chest. "Aye, I guess she did," he whispered._


	10. Chapter 10

She had to stop drinking with him, Emma thought, rolling over and repositioning the pillow under her head. It was just too easy to say things when your senses were numb from alcohol.

She used to be able to handle it, back when they were in college. They used to drink together all the time at the bar while playing pool or darts or listening to the bands. It had never been an issue (well, only once, a small voice whispered in her ear).

But now, she couldn't keep her thoughts in her head where they were supposed to be. Maybe it was due to the long separation or maybe it was because every time he touched her now, her traitorous brain immediately flew to the memory of that night two years ago.

Whatever the reason… She had to stop drinking with him. She shuddered to think what might have popped out of her mouth if David hadn't interrupted when he did. She'd been on the verge of telling him everything.

 _But who could blame her after an evening like that?_ she thought as she groaned and flipped onto her back, huffing out a breath.

It had been so… perfect _._

From the moment she walked into the living room and saw him standing there – looking dashing and dangerous in his dark blue shirt and black vest – it had been absolutely _perfect._

Almost like a date.

He'd always been the type to open doors and the like (she didn't think she'd ever even touched a door handle while he was around), but last night...

Last night, he'd helped her with her coat, pulling her hair out of the collar as he did so, his hand grazing her neck in the process, making her feel light-headed… And he'd led her to their table, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, making her feel cherished…. Then he'd pulled out her chair for her, his eyes dancing with amusement, making her feel giddy.

Really? How was a woman supposed to keep her wits about her when faced with that kind of treatment?

Then he had insisted on buying a bottle of champagne. She had tried to refuse, but his flirty, "Afraid you won't be able to resist me after a few libations, love?" comment had been a challenge she couldn't back down from. Smiling ruefully to herself, she realized just how right he had been.

The whole night had been a test of her self-control, their knees and arms brushing from time to time until she was practically vibrating with hormones and lust, and it had taken everything in her to keep from running her hand down his arm, or wiping that damn smudge of chocolate from his lips.

And when he'd fed her that bite of his dessert…. his blue eyes bluer than usual because of that damn shirt he was wearing and his eyes focused on her lips as he delicately laid the fork into her mouth, then pulled it out slowly, his adam's apple bobbing as he met her eyes and -

_Really?_

If it _had_ been a date, it would have been the best one she'd ever had – by a considerably large margin.

So was it any wonder that while she was reeling from all that – plus the added buzz of a few _libations_ – that her mouth ran away from her?

Thank God, David interrupted when he did.

She sighed in frustration and turned back to her other side. It was way too early to be awake. She needed to get more sleep. This was the second night in a row she'd tossed and turned, her vivid dreams waking her in the middle of the night, leaving her body burning and unsatisfied.

She needed to get out of his bed – hell, she needed to get out of this _apartment –_ find her own place where she didn't strain to hear any movement he made, where the sheets didn't smell of him and glide across her skin the way she craved his body to, where her things weren't mixed together with his on the vanity in the bathroom, making it too easy to pretend that there was more between them than there was.

Last night had been a beautiful fantasy but she lived in reality. And in reality, they were friends. And she wasn't going to risk losing his friendship again by complicating it with sex. They'd made that mistake already and she'd lost two years with him because of it.

Eventually, she heard movement coming from around the apartment and realized that someone else was up. She dressed and carefully opened the bedroom door, wincing when the hinges squeaked. She made her way silently down the hall and saw Killian fast asleep on the couch. She held her breath as she tip-toed by him and made her way to the kitchen.

She entered just as David leaned down to place a soft kiss on Mary Margaret's lips as he said in a hushed voice, "Have a good day. I love you."

"Love you, too," she whispered back.

They smiled at each other for another moment and it struck Emma just how incredible the two of them were together. The bond between them was so strong and beautiful. They just fit… like it was destined in the stars or something. But the most amazing thing about them was how they both just _knew_ it. There had never been a doubt, right from the start, that they were perfect for each other. Emma wondered what it must be like to have that kind of faith in someone. To just know, without question, that they would always be there.

The couple released each other and David turned to go, finally noticing Emma standing in the doorway. He gave her a sweet smile as he passed and kissed her on the temple. "You ladies have fun apartment hunting today," he told them before he disappeared through the door.

Emma made her way to the coffeepot as Mary Margaret busied herself with the toaster.

"I hope you don't mind but I looked through the paper already and found some apartments close by," Mary Margaret said and motioned to the paper sitting on the table.

Emma smiled, "The closer the better," she replied.

"Excellent," she said, "I've got the dinner shift tonight, but we should be able to make it to several before I go in. I can be dressed and ready in thirty minutes." And with that, she picked up her toast and headed out of the kitchen.

Emma grabbed the other piece of toast and her coffee cup. As she sat down at the table to eat she heard noises coming from the living room. Killian had obviously awoken and she held her breath. She couldn't decide if it was fear or excitement that had her tied up in knots as she listened carefully to ascertain whether he would come get his coffee before or after his shower. She heard his footsteps receding down the hall and realized that his shower came first.

Emma finished off her breakfast and headed back to Killian's room. He was still in the bathroom from the sound of it, so she sat down on his bed to put on her boots. As she was zipping up her first boot, she heard the bathroom door open and the sound of his footsteps approaching and her heart jumped to her throat. For a moment she considered fleeing from the room, one boot on and one boot off, but she thought better of it, realizing that would probably look suspicious.

A moment later, Killian walked through the door, nothing but a towel flung around his hips and another lifted to his head as he rubbed it against his wet hair. He stopped dead at the sight of her, a wicked grin crossing his face.

Emma stood quickly. Then, realizing she hadn't zipped up her second boot, dropped back down to the bed and averted her eyes from his, saying, "Sorry, I'll get out of your way."

"No hurry, love. I would never rush a beautiful woman from my bed."

She focused her attention on zipping up her boot, making a display of straightening the leg of her pants as she tried to gather her wits. She finally looked back over, her mouth opened to make a witty comeback, but the words never made it past her lips. He had silently moved to within arm's length of her, his body so close he probably felt the rush of air that left her lungs. Her eyes landed on his chest. She tried not to look – but it was _right there_ for goodness sakes and her temperature spiked as her eyes traced a drop of water that was making its way down the center through the dark swath of hair until it disappeared into –

Her eyes sprang to his grinning face. He'd obviously noticed her reaction (really, how could he have missed it) and he took another step toward her, tossing the towel in his hand on the bed, saying, "See something you like, Swan?"

Her mouth went suddenly dry, causing her to lick her lips and she felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as she craned her neck to meet his eyes. The way he was looking at her… That slightly cocky grin and those bright blue eyes. He was so frustratingly handsome, his hair shooting up in complete disarray, all wet and gorgeous. Her breath caught in her throat as he stood there, waiting for her to speak.

After another moment, he chuckled lightly and asked, "Have I rendered you speechless, Emma?"

"No," she said and stood quickly. The movement almost had their upper bodies touching and she took an automatic step back. He immediately took a step toward her again. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

"I need to get to my closet," he said innocently, pointing a finger over her shoulder. The humor was gone from his voice but the grin still in place.

"Oh, right, sorry," she said and turned to press the back of her legs into the bed to give him room. She held up her hands as he slid past her and determinedly kept her eyes on the ceiling (no matter how much she wanted to look down). His cologne washed over her and she swore she could actually feel the heat coming off his body.

She continued to watch him, paralyzed with lust, as he rummaged around in the closet for a shirt and pulled one out. Realizing she was staring again, she quickly turned away and busied herself with shutting her suitcase and pushing it back into the corner.

When she turned back, he'd already laid out all of his clothes on the bed and was reaching for the towel around his hip. She quickly looked away again saying, "I'll just… be in the kitchen," before beating a hasty exit from the room.

As she walked away, she realized that running down the hall with only one boot on would have been far less embarrassing.

She sat at the table and was looking over the apartment listings Mary Margaret had circled for her when he entered and grabbed the makings for his cereal. She kept her eyes on the paper as he joined her, afraid he would make a comment on her embarrassing display in his room, but instead he asked, "What are your plans today, Swan?"

"Apartment hunting," she replied, relieved.

"Ah, and I see Mary Margaret has already selected a few possibilities," he said, gesturing toward the newspaper, "Now I understand why she'd been looking. I thought she and David were thinking of getting their own place."

Emma gave him a confused look and asked, "When exactly did she look at all of these?"

"About a week ago, I believe," he said pouring milk onto his Fruit Loops.

"I didn't know if I had the job a week ago," she replied.

"Maybe not, but you were already planning on moving, right? So what difference does it make? I'm sure she was just hoping for the best."

Emma smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

"Speaking of…" Killian said keeping his eyes on his spoon and clearing his throat, "You haven't told me _why_ you decided to come back – and don't say you just wanted to… I know you better than that. And I know there's more to it."

He turned to her as he spoke, his eyes concerned, and she was instantly caught once again in his gaze. The sincerity and earnestness in his eyes had always been her undoing. The look that said she could talk to him, that she could tell him anything. It had nothing to do with alcohol, she realized. It was just _him._

When she continued to stare at him mutely, he angled his chair toward her and prodded gently, "What happened, Emma?"

"Nothing happened," she heard herself say, "I realized something."

"What was that?"

She stared hard at him for a minute, biting at her lower lip. _Should she tell him?_ She came back for _him_. She came back because she realized she was nothing without him. All of her confidence, all of her drive, was a direct result of his faith in her and she _needed_ him in her life. And it wasn't even because she was madly in love with him. She needed his _friendship._ She drew her _strength_ from him. She'd been flailing around in life until he showed up, making one stupid decision after another (Neal being the biggest of them all). But he'd been there for her, calling Neal a 'bloody fool' and a 'blasted idiot' and holding her hand while David talked to the detective.

He'd been her rock, her savior, her confidante. He'd made her see the good in herself after a lifetime of being pushed down, ignored, taken advantage of. He'd brought her back from the ledge with his quiet faith and reassuring presence.

"It was…" Tears stung her eyes and she looked at him imploringly, wanting to tell him but terrified of what he would say.

When she didn't continue, he coaxed again, "It was what, darling?"

The endearment warmed her, oozing through her body and soothing her nerves as he gently lifted his hand, wiped the tear from her cheek (she knew he would) and whispered achingly, "Emma, whatever it is, you can tell me."

The softly spoken statement caused another tear to fall but it was tender look he gave her, so full of concern and worry and acceptance, that made the words fall from her mouth. "It was you," she whispered.

His hand lowered to the table and he sat up taller in his chair, drawing a deep breath, looking like she'd hit him over the head with a hammer and she rushed on.

"I needed _you…_ our friendship. The way you were always there, encouraging me. I didn't have that in Chicago," she told him, taking in his shocked expression as his eyes widened. "I had friends. Some of them really great… but they weren't you. They didn't notice when I was upset and trying to hide it. They didn't refill my glass when it was empty or know how to make me laugh," she paused to clear her throat as her voice cracked and she looked away, staring down at the newspaper in her hand, the words on the page blurred through her tears. When he didn't speak she continued, careful to keep her eyes in front of her. She had to get the rest out. She had to say it now or she'd lose her nerve. "You're my best friend, Killian. And all the time I was gone, whenever I felt alone, I'd think of you. I could hear your voice in my head telling me that everything would be okay, everything would work out. Then about three months ago, your voice started fading. I needed you and… I was too scared to call. Too afraid that you wouldn't want to talk to me but - "

She was suddenly and almost violently pulled to her feet and into his arms, her head cradled on his chest as he pressed his lips into her hair, "I always want to talk to you, Swan. Always," he said, his voice rough and strained as he crushed her to him. Then, pulling back to look at her, he lifted her chin so that she was forced to look into his eyes, so full of regret and sadness, as he added, "You're my best friend, too, and I was wrong not to call. I'm sorry. I should have, I just - "

"Don't," she said, hearing the ragged pain in his voice and wanting to sooth it. Blinking away the last of her tears, she reached up and smoothed her thumb over his brow, "I was the one who should have called but - it's okay, now. I'm home. And we're okay. And everything can go back - "

A muffled sob from the doorway broke the intense moment and had them both spinning to see Mary Margaret wiping at her eyes and saying, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I promise, and I didn't mean to interrupt but…" she motioned between the two of them as she trailed off with a watery smile and shrug of her shoulders.

"It's okay," Emma said, smiling back at her as her body relaxed. The tension left Killian's body as well as one of his hands lifted to tuck her cheek back into his chest and she snuggled into his warmth. His chin settled on her head and he rocked her slowly.

The embrace was comforting and the last of the tension in her shoulders drained away. She closed her eyes and relished it for a moment as relief flooded her system and left her giddy. A light chuckle escaped her mouth as she rubbed her cheek into his chest before looking back to Mary Margaret.

"We should probably get moving," she said then raised her eyes to Killian's. "We can talk tonight?"

He was smiling at her, the relief plain on his face as he lifted his hand, pushed her hair over her shoulder, then rested it on her cheek. "Of course we can," he said and leaned forward to press a long kiss to her forehead. He hugged her tight one more time, and added, "See you tonight, love."

K&EK&EK&E

Killian didn't know how he was going to make it through the day.

She'd come back because of _him._ She'd missed _him._ Her confession played itself over and over again in his head as he tried to get at least _some_ work done.

She'd been sitting there, so tense, her face full of apprehension and fear just before her whispered confession and he'd been so worried. He'd wanted to help, to wipe the sadness from her face.

_Whatever it is, Swan, you can tell me._

He, never in a million years, would have guessed what her next words would be.

_It was you._

His heart slammed into his ribs again at the memory. The shock that had gone through him as he realized that the thing she feared was him. She was _crying_ because of him. He'd listened as she continued, taking in every word.

_Whenever I felt alone, I'd think of you._

_I could hear your voice in my head._

_You're my best friend, Killian._

_Your voice started fading._

_I was too afraid to call._

And that's when he'd broken, the moment he couldn't just listen any longer. So he pulled her into his arms and held her close, his heart breaking over the pain he'd caused. He'd wanted to apologize and tell her everything but she'd stopped him with her gentle touch and he realized that she was just as sorry as he was. That she didn't blame him. They'd both been fools, insecure and scared and _idiots_.

_I'm home now._

The joy that had flooded through him at her words made his breath hitch. She was home. She was staying. And with a little time, he'd convince her they belonged together. He knew she might be hesitant at first but he would methodically work to knock down the walls around her heart until she let him in.

The first hurdle had already been crossed.

_You're my best friend, Killian._

Her best friend. It wasn't a declaration of love, but hearing her say it had gone straight to his heart. Add that to her reaction to him in the bedroom and he was sure… She loved him. She might not know it yet and she'd probably fight it every step of the way but he was a patient man.

They'd talk tonight. And this time, there would be no interruptions. Mary Margaret was working and he'd just gotten a text from David saying he had to interview a witness and it could be late by the time he got home.

He didn't know how he was going to make it through the day.


	11. Chapter 11

Emma opened the door of the next potential apartment (the fifth one on their list) as Mary Margaret's phone buzzed again.

"You've been getting a lot of texts today," Emma commented.

"Oh, it's just David. He says he's going to be working late tonight... an interview or something…" she said breezily as they walked in, then, "Oh, look at this kitchen! I'd kill for this kitchen. And look, it even has a window box. You could grow fresh herbs."

Emma laughed. "That's more your thing. I wouldn't know parsley from thyme."

Mary Margaret shrugged, "Well, you could grow flowers instead."

Emma looked around the room. "It's nice, but the rent's a little high for me. And besides, I don't need this much room. The last one we looked at was more my speed. Maybe we should head back over there to get an application. We've been at this all day and you need to go home and change for work soon. And - I want to get settled in as quickly as possible. Killian really does need his room back. No matter what he says, I don't want to get in the way of his… nocturnal activities," she joked.

When Mary Margaret didn't respond, Emma turned to look at her, curious. The look she was getting was anything but amused. Instead, it showed worry and a touch of consternation.

"What?" Emma asked.

Her friend opened her mouth to say something and then stopped, drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Nothing. It doesn't matter," she said and turned to the refrigerator, opening the door.

"Whatever it is, I think it does matter," Emma said, concerned.

Mary Margaret remained stubbornly silent as she bent over and made a show of studying the inside of the refrigerator, opening and closing each drawer like it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

Emma leaned against the counter and folded her arms. "Mary Margaret?"

Her head fell forward in defeat before she straightened and closed the door. She turned to look at Emma, still gripping at the handle as she did so, a guilt ridden look on her face.

"What's going on?" Emma asked.

Mary Margaret sighed heavily, obviously reluctant to say anything else but after a moment she relented. "What makes you think you'd be in his way? Do you still think he brings home women all the time?"

Emma shrugged, "Hey, I'm not judging. It's just who he is… And who can blame him with the way women throw themselves at him?"

Mary Margaret shook her head. "Emma, you really have no clue, do you?" she said, astonishment clear in her voice, "You've always thought he was some sort of playboy. Even back in college. But that's not who he is. He doesn't sleep around."

Emma drew her eyebrows together in confusion. "What are you… But he worked at that bar. Every time we went out for pool, women practically drooled over him."

"Maybe, but he never _drooled_ back," she replied, "Did you ever actually see him leave with a woman?"

"Well, no… but we always rode together, I just assumed on the nights he worked…" she trailed off as Mary Margaret shook her head. "What, never?"

Mary Margaret was looking starting to look uncomfortable, her grip on the door loosening and tightening over and over again. "Well, I can't say 'never'. I didn't meet him until junior year when he and David started rooming together but... not after that. At least not until..."

"Not until...? What?" Emma asked.

Something was starting to churn in her stomach, a foreboding feeling that outwardly left her paralyzed even though, internally, everything was speeding up, the blood pumping faster through her veins and her heart fluttering.

"Not until after we graduated."

"And then?" she pressed as her blood sped up even more. She knew she was starting to sound like she did during interrogations and she tried to calm herself by taking a deep breath.

It didn't work.

"Well... he… Uhhmmm," she paused and looked away, shaking her head. "We shouldn't be talking about this."

"You're the one who brought it up," Emma said, her voice sharp with frustration as pinpricks of dread started dancing in her chest and lungs.

_What the hell was going on?_

"I know, and I shouldn't have. Killian wouldn't want - " she stopped again.

The blood pumping through Emma's veins heated to boiling. "'Killian wouldn't want…' what?" she asked slowly, enunciating each word, a warning clear in her voice.

_Where had the anger come from?_

"I don't…" Mary Margaret looked almost pained now… Biting her lower lip so hard it looked like she was going to draw blood.

The temporary paralysis ended as Emma threw her hands up in frustration. "So, you're telling me that Killian was… what? _Celibate_ in college?" she asked in disbelief.

_How was it even possible?_

Mary Margaret didn't move, didn't confirm or deny, didn't so much as blink in reply. But she didn't have to. Her silence spoke volumes and Emma's annoyance grew by a factor of ten.

"And no one told me? None of you thought I might be interested in knowing the truth!?" she accused, incensed that they'd all kept this from her.

_Why did she feel so betrayed over this?_

Mary Margaret kept her voice calm in the wake of the question, sounding like a school teacher dealing with an unruly child. "To be fair, I'm not sure David ever thought you actually believed it. I didn't either, at first. I thought you were just… flirting. But eventually, I realized you did and by then, I figured if Killian had wanted you to know, he would have told you himself. I just… I didn't think it was my place to talk to you about it."

"Why didn't _he_ tell me?!" Emma demanded, the blood boiling through her veins now burning so hot she could feel her skin heat from it.

Mary Margaret visually blanched at her tone, "I don't know. Pride, maybe?" she said, "But I'm not the one you should ask."

 _Oh, she'd ask him alright,_ she thought as the air backed up into her lungs, leaving her unable to speak for fear of choking. The world felt like it had just shifted underneath her, making the ground rumble and crack and she turned away, gripping at the kitchen counter and trying to rein in her anger.

She drew several deep breaths as her thoughts splintered in a thousand different directions, pictures of him flashing in her head. She closed her eyes as she struggled to sift through the onslaught of images.

Images of him sitting in his dorm room, his head bent over a textbook... The sweet smile on his face as he tucked her hair behind her ear... The shared high-fives when they beat David and Mary Margaret at pool.

Pictures of blonds, brunettes, redheads sidling up to him, and leaning across bars, and sticking phone numbers in his pocket and he'd never… Never?

_How did she not know?_

Him filling her glass, and sharing his fries, and opening her doors.

Taking her pool cue from her and laying it on the table behind her. Pressing her into the door with his body and pinning her arms next to her head. Cradling her face and studying it as if committing it to memory.

The innuendo laced comments and her callous comebacks and... he'd never once tried to correct her. He'd never once defended himself. He'd let her believe it… He'd let her believe he was a cocky, arrogant playboy who'd fuck anything in a skirt, a man who treated sex as a physical need and nothing more.

_Why would he do that? What did it mean?_

Distantly she thought she knew but, at the same time, the idea was so ridiculous that she immediately dismissed it.

She instead focused on something she was sure of: he'd lied to her. This morning he'd told her she was his best friend and now... Now, she felt like she didn't even know him. Her brain told her she was being unfair, that he was still the same person, that she was blowing this out of proportion and it didn't really change their relationship.

But it did.

It changed everything.

"Emma?"

She snapped back to the present at the softly spoken word and turned back to look at Mary Margaret.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said tightly.

Mary Margaret wasn't convinced by a long shot.

"We should go. You need to get to work."

"Emma - "

"I'm fine," she said again, trying to sound more convincing, "You're right. You're not the one I should be talking to about this."

K&EK&EK&E

Killian stared at the clock again. Had the infernal thing stopped working? He swore that it should have been at least an hour later than it was. He checked it against his phone and - dammit - it _was_ working.

"How was dinner last night?" Ariel asked, appearing at his door.

"Good," he replied, still looking at his phone in frustration, marveling at the phenomenon of time slowing down when all you wanted was for it to speed up.

"Just good?" Ariel prodded.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he replied, "I would recommend it highly for your next romantic evening. The food was superb and the service was excellent."

"I wasn't asking about the restaurant, Killian," she said (he could almost hear her eyes rolling) as she crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame.

He looked up at her, trying to look stern, but couldn't do it when he saw the hopeful look on her face. "It wasn't a date," he said, trying to sound convincing.

"Uh huh," she replied, obviously unconvinced.

"It wasn't. Emma is just an old friend - "

"Who was very surprised to find that there was a boat named after her," she said. When he didn't comment, she asked, "Why didn't you tell her?"

Killian exhaled deeply, "It just never came up, I guess. Until a couple of days ago, I hadn't seen or talked to her in quite some time."

"Two years?" Ariel asked with a knowing smile.

His lips quirked into a smile at her tenacity. "Aye," he admitted.

She nodded, "I kinda figured." The bell on the front door went off and she turned to go but looked to him one more time. "Be careful, Killian."

He looked back at the clock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Bloody hell.

Dammit. He couldn't sit here any longer.

It occurred to him that if he left right now, he'd be able to run across town to pick up dinner from her favorite restaurant and get back to the apartment shortly after the time he knew Mary Margaret would need to leave. Abandoning all pretense of trying to get anything done, he shut down his computer and grabbed his jacket.

"I'm off," he said to Ariel, "If you need me, give me a call."

Ariel glanced to the clock and smiled. "You made it longer than I thought you would," she commented. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll only call if the place burns down. Have a good night."

"Thanks, lass," he grinned and winked at her before he walked out.

K&EK&EK&E

Emma escaped to Killian's bedroom as soon as they entered the apartment, shutting the door, leaning back on it and closing her eyes. She needed to think. She needed to figure out what this meant. She rapped her head against the door behind her in aggravation and opened her eyes.

It just didn't make any sense. A man who looked like that… Mary Margaret must be wrong. He would have told her. She would have seen it. Right?

She glanced around the room and her eyes landed on the picture of the four of them on graduation day. She reached out and picked it up, staring at his smiling image.

 _Who the hell are you?_ she mused.

She had no idea how much time had passed. She heard Mary Margaret leave, calling out a goodbye to her as she did so but Emma didn't respond. She just kept staring at the photograph.

What felt like only minutes later, she heard the door open again and her stomach lurched.

She wasn't ready to see him yet. She hadn't had time to prepare.

"Swan? I hope you're hungry," she heard him call out from the living room, "because I got your favorite."

Her feet were rooted to the floor and her heart was already beating faster. She considered hiding under the bed or pretending to take a nap, anything to give her more time to sort through her rioting emotions. As it was, they were racing through her so fast, they were making her dizzy.

Anger. Fear. Confusion. Hope.

All of them were fighting for dominance and she wasn't sure which would win in the end. Her palms were suddenly sweaty and her eyes darted in every direction, trying to find an escape route. She glanced at the window and for one mad instant actually considered climbing out of it.

Christ, she was losing it.

She must have taken too long because she heard him call to her again. "Swan? Are you in there?"

"Yeah, I'll be right out," she said quickly, praying her voice didn't sound as conflicted as she felt.

There was nothing for it, she realized. She had to face him.

As she walked slowly to the kitchen her ears were buzzing, her heart hammering, the emotional war still waging in her stomach as she tried to pinpoint one feeling and stick with it.

He was bent over the table when she entered, laying out their dinner with his back to her. He hadn't heard her come in, so she took a moment to study him. It seemed confusion was winning the internal war for now (dammit, she'd been rooting for anger) as the question popped into her head again: _Who the hell are you?_

When he turned and saw her, his face lit up with a smile (it just wasn't fair that it made her heart stutter).

"There you are," he said, "Are you hungry? I got an extra-large fry so feel free to pilfer as many as you like," he told her as he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out two beers.

Emma's gaze went to the table, to the emblem on the takeout bag sitting there. Her heart softened at the familiar sight. "You went to Granny's," she said to herself.

It wasn't a question but he hummed in response as he twisted the tops off their drinks and laid them on the table.

"It's all the way across town," she mused quietly as she sat down, her eyes still on the bag (it just wasn't fair that he could do this... make her feel special and content when she wanted to be angry).

He shrugged. "Some things are worth a little extra effort," he said.

"And I'll bet you even remembered to tell them no mustard." Her voice was barely even a whisper and she felt tears sting her eyes.

_What the hell was wrong with her?_

"Of course. I know how you are about your condiments, love."

She didn't know why she was getting choked up over a freaking hamburger but there was suddenly a lump in the back of her throat and it was mortifying. Dammit.

Her battling emotions were struggling again and, finally, anger pushed its way into the lead. Damn him. He wasn't supposed to come in here being all sweet and perfect. She wanted to yell and rage and demand he tell her the truth and she'd let him sidetrack her with french fries, for Christ sakes.

"Emma? Is everything alright?" he asked, watching her carefully.

She turned to look at him. _You lied to me._ The words were on the tip of her tongue but seeing the clear concern on his face, she couldn't make them leave her lips.

She shook her head. "Of course," she replied shortly and picked up her burger, "Let's eat."

His eyes narrowed at her behavior but he didn't comment on it as he sat down. She took a large bite of her sandwich to distract herself and discourage any more conversation until she could gather her thoughts (it didn't help that it tasted heavenly even over the bitter emotions rocking through her).

Damn him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the air getting thicker with each breath she took, before she heard him ask, "As good as you remember?"

"Huh?" she replied, distracted.

"Your sandwich... Is it as good as you remember?"

"It's delicious," she said with her mouth full, refusing to look at him.

He nodded and went back to eating. Once his attention was no longer on her, she glanced at him from under her lashes. His posture was getting more tense by the moment, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He could obviously tell something was off. He always could read her moods. The bastard. She picked up her beer and took a long swallow.

"So, how was apartment shopping today?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his food.

"It was, uhhhh, informative," she replied and took another drink. Fortifying herself with liquor might help.

His brow furrowed at her cryptic answer and he turned to her but, after seeing the look on her face, chose to remain silent.

She finished off her sandwich and rose to get another beer. The fact that she looked to see if he needed one, too, (his was still almost full) pissed her off even more. When she returned to her seat, she leaned back and crossed her right leg over her left, openly staring at him.

He took his time as he finished his own meal, studiously avoiding looking in her direction. When he finally finished, he wiped his mouth on the napkin, balled it up and tossed it on the table, huffing out a breath. Then he picked up his beer and sat back, mirroring her stance.

He finally looked at her as he asked, "Are you going to tell me what's going on? Or do you expect me to guess?"

She dived right in, feeling her blood heat back up. "Why did you let me believe that you slept around when we were in college?"

"Sorry?"

_Damn him and that confused puppy dog look._

She began again, speaking slower and with more of an edge to her voice, "Why did you let me believe - "

"I heard the question," he interrupted her, "I just… What brought this on, Swan?"

"I said something to Mary Margaret today about you wanting your room back and she told me… She said that I'd been wrong about you all this time."

"She did, did she?" he mused calmly, his eyes carefully blank as he looked down at the bottle in his hand.

His evasive answer grated at her nerves like the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she sucked in a frustrated breath.

"Is it true?" she demanded, her voice rising as she watched him pick at the label on his beer bottle.

_How could he be so calm?_

He took his time before answering. When he did, he looked her straight in the eye, his features carefully composed as he said, "Aye, it's true."

The softly spoken words rocked her to her core and she sat up straight in her chair, her anger momentarily forgotten at the soft look on his face. "Killian... Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, astonished.

"I dunno, love, I guess there was just never a right time," he said, scratching behind his ear.

"Never a right time?" she asked in disbelief, her voice rising again as she tried to mimic his accent and failed miserably.

He shrugged in response, once again picking at the label on the bottle.

"All those countless hours we hung out, and you never once saw an opening in the conversation?" she asked, sharply.

Emma felt a moment of victory as his outer veneer of calm cracked at the question, his eyes flashing. He leaned toward her over the table as he said, "What was I supposed to say, Emma? 'You know that assumption you made the moment you set eyes on me about me shagging everything in a skirt? Well, you're wrong.'?"

"That would have worked," she huffed.

He shook his head in exasperation and fell back into his chair, "What's going on here? You always seemed annoyed over the idea that I was, and now you seem annoyed that I wasn't. What changed?"

"You lied to me!" she exclaimed.

"No, I didn't," he bit out, clutching the beer bottle so tight that his knuckles were turning white. "I just never corrected you."

"It's the same thing," she said, derisively.

"No, it's not," he replied, his voice hard and clipped.

Giving her emotions free reign, Emma shot up from the table and paced back and forth, her hands on her hips, as she raged, "What the hell, Killian? I feel like I don't even know you anymore. It doesn't make sense. I've seen the way women act around you. I mean, just look at you," she stopped to wave her hand in his direction and he had the nerve to look embarrassed, "I have no doubt that you had nightly offers - probably several every night - and you never took them up on it? Never?"

The muscle in his jaw clenched and he swallowed, refusing to answer.

"Well?" she asked again.

"What do you want me to say, Emma? That I didn't get the offers? Because you're right, I got plenty. But, no, I didn't 'take them up on it.' I wasn't interested in a meaningless fuck," he punctuated the statement by setting his bottle on the table with a sharp click.

Anger gave way to fear as he stood and approached her. She wasn't sure why she was afraid but the air was backing up into her throat and she braced herself by leaning back on the counter and holding it with both hands.

"You think you don't know me?" he asked, "You know me better than anyone in this world. The fact that I didn't sleep with the droves of women you assumed I did doesn't change who I am," he paused to take a deep breath, "And I never corrected you because I knew what would happen if I did. You were comfortable thinking that I was sleeping around. It made it safe for you. If I'd told you the truth back then, we'd never have stayed friends."

He was only inches from her now, the anger flashing behind his eyes.

"So, instead you let me believe a lie?" she asked in astonishment, "You just stood back and took all the offensive remarks I made to you, all the flippant insults?"

"I didn't want to lose you," he said. "You weren't ready. I always planned on telling you when you were - but then you left." He took a step back, turned away from her, then added in a pained whisper, "You left and I lost you anyway."

Emma's whole body stiffened as the softly spoken words rang out like a trumpet in her head. He wasn't talking about losing a friendship. Before she could form a coherent sentence, he spoke again.

"The night before you left, I almost did it," he said, still looking away from her, "I almost told you at the pub… but it was our last night together and I didn't want to fight." He looked back at her then, the blue of his eyes shimmering with something she was too scared to label, "What would you have done, if I had?"

She wasn't quite sure what he was asking. "What do you mean?"

"Would you still have come home with me?" he asked, watching her carefully.

Her heart slammed into her ribcage, making it difficult to breathe, much less talk, and her voice cracked as she answered, "I don't know, maybe…" she couldn't meet his eyes, "Probably…"

"And if you had, would you still have left me in the middle of the night?" he pressed.

Her eyes shot back to his at the question, heat flooding her cheeks, and he closed the little distance between them, their noses almost touching and his eyes focused on her mouth as he waited for her answer.

She knew what he wanted her to say and she almost did (she wanted to) but she realized she couldn't lie to him.

"Yes," she admitted softly.


	12. Chapter 12

Killian knew something was wrong the moment he saw her. She was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when he turned around, looking at him like he'd grown a second head.

His didn't realize how bad it was until she attacked her cheeseburger with a ferocity that would have made a velociraptor proud. He tried to broach the subject with her immediately and asked her what was wrong but she blew him off. On top of that, she also rebuffed his attempts at polite conversation.

When she sat back down after grabbing her second beer, he knew she was ready to talk but, by that time, he was good and pissed himself so he made her wait. He wasn't about to let her get the upper hand right from the start. So, he finished off his own dinner (at a reasonable pace), careful not to look at her until he was bloody well good and ready.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? Or do you expect me to guess?" he asked her.

She didn't hesitate before dropping her bomb. "Why did you let me believe that you slept around when we were in college?"

_He had to admit: He hadn't seen this coming._

"Sorry?"

When she started repeating the question like he was a simpleton, he cut her off.

 _This was what she was mad about?_ he mused.

She was sitting there, being all kinds of affronted, not because of something he did… but because of something he _didn't_ do?

"I heard the question. I just… What brought this on, Swan?"

He needed a minute to figure out how to handle this. He was seething on the inside at her tone and he just needed a bloody minute to catch up. So he deflected her attempts to get a rise out of him while messing with the label on his bottle. He thought was doing a pretty good job of keeping a lid on his inner turmoil until she accused him of lying to her.

 _He'd never lied to her_ \- and it infuriated him that she was accusing him of it. Maybe he hadn't offered up certain facts but he'd _never_ lied.

"No, I didn't," he told her, barely keeping a grip on his fury, "I just never corrected you."

She was up and moving a moment later, saying that she didn't know him anymore. The statement was ludicrous and she knew it (damn her) and he wanted to stop her right there but then, in nearly the same breath, she basically accused him of lying again.

"…I've seen the way women act around you. I mean, just look at you. I have no doubt that you had nightly offers - probably several every night - and you never took them up on it? Never?"

_Hadn't he just bloody told her he hadn't?_

"Well?" she asked again.

"What do you want me to say, Emma?" he asked, because he honestly didn't know, "That I didn't get the offers? Because you're right, I got plenty. But, no, I didn't 'take them up on it.' I wasn't interested in a meaningless fuck."

He stood to match her as the leash on his anger snapped.

"You think you don't know me?" he lashed out, "You know me better than anyone in this world. The fact that I didn't sleep with the droves of women you assumed I did doesn't change who I am." He saw her expression change from anger to fear and he knew he was pushing it but he couldn't stop now.

He couldn't stop because he thought he knew what she was afraid of. It was the same reason he'd kept this from her for so long but, now that she knew, it was time to lay it on the line so he plowed on, "And I never corrected you because I knew what would happen if I did. You were comfortable thinking that I was sleeping around. It made it safe for you. If I'd told you the truth back then, we'd never have stayed friends."

She seemed utterly astounded, her anger forgotten, as she said, "So, instead you let me believe a lie? You just stood back and took all the offensive remarks I made to you, all the flippant insults?"

His anger melted away at the astonishment in her voice. _Why was she so surprised?_

"I didn't want to lose you," he admitted. "You weren't ready. I always planned on telling you when you were - but then you left." He took a step back and turned away, because even now his heart still hurt from it. "You left and I lost you anyway."

He heard her quick intake of breath but still couldn't look at her. "The night before you left, I almost did it. I almost told you at the pub… but it was our last night together and I didn't want to fight." He looked back at her then because he needed to _know_. He needed to see her reaction to his next question, a question he'd asked himself thousands of times over the past two years, "What would you have done, if I had?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you still have come home with me?" he asked, watching her carefully.

Her eyebrows drew together as she answered. "I don't know, maybe…" she looked away before she added in a whisper, "Probably…"

That wasn't a good enough answer so he asked another question. "And if you had, would you still have left me in the middle of the night?"

She went red as she looked back to him, her beautiful green eyes misted with tears and he stepped closer, wanting to comfort her as much as himself. She blinked back the tears and gave him a pleading look before she answered.

"Yes."

One word.

That was all it took to dash every hope he'd ever had. A punch to the gut would have hurt less.

Well, he finally had his answer. _It wouldn't have made a difference. She still would have left him there._ He didn't want to believe it and if he hadn't heard it with his own ears, he wouldn't have.

He couldn't look at her anymore. The pain was ripping his heart to shreds and he started to turn away but she stopped him with her hand on his arm.

"Killian, wait," she pleaded, raising her hand to his cheek and forcing him to meet her eyes, "You don't understand. It wasn't because I didn't care," she whispered. She was openly crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks as she sniffled softly. "It was because I cared too much. I couldn't handle saying goodbye to you. I just couldn't face the thought of driving away with you in the rearview mirror. I wouldn't have been able to do it. I wouldn't have been able to go. And I had to. I _had_ to go."

David's voice popped into his head as he recalled their conversation from last night. " _She had to go… She just kept saying it over and over again. It wasn't that she wanted to leave. It was like she didn't have a choice."_

Understanding dawned on him, taking his breath away. But he was still having trouble looking at her so he lowered his lashes as he murmured, "To see if you'd miss it."

She immediately raised his chin again as she nodded.

They stood still in each other's arms for a moment, her hand on his cheek and his resting on her hip, staring at each other with an intensity borne of hope and longing. Her eyes dropped to his lips and back, a clear question in them and he was so tempted to take what she was offering.

But he couldn't. Not yet. They needed to finish this first.

So he took a step back, disentangling himself from her arms in the process. Hurt slashed across her features as he did so, but he kept going until his back hit the table.

"I almost went after you that day," he said quietly, "I almost called you a hundred times demanding to know why you left me in the middle of the night."

"And I almost turned around and came back," she told him. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she bit her lower lip, "You have to believe me, Killian. Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done."

He nodded, bracing his hands on the table behind him. He did believe her. But he needed more. "I wish you'd told me the real reason you were leaving. I would have understood. I would have at least _tried_ to understand."

"I know," she said softly, "but I couldn't risk it. If you'd asked me to stay – even before that night – I don't think I would have been strong enough to go."

He took a deep breath, "And if you hadn't left, you would have always wondered if this was really your home."

She looked surprised that he understood as she answered, "Yeah," on a shaky breath.

"And now you're sure?" he asked, "You're _sure_ this is where you want to be?" He held his breath, watching her intently as he waited for her response.

"Yes."

One word.

That's all it took for his dreams to take flight.

He didn't know who moved first. They'd both been leaning back, watching each other closely, her hands braced on the kitchen counter and his braced on the table, but in an instant they were both pushing off their respective surfaces with such force that their bodies bashed together when they met halfway between the space.

Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck and he reached down to grab her thighs and haul her legs around him. He stepped forward to brace her against the refrigerator, pinning her there as his hand moved up to her cheek.

Their lips hadn't even met yet and he could already feel himself hardening. He kept his eyes on hers as he pushed forward with his hips, watching in awe when her head fell back and a moan escaped her. He rocked into her again when she tightened her legs around him and her eyes came back to his.

It was incredibly erotic that he had her straining against him and he hadn't even kissed her yet, but her mouth fell open with the next thrust of his hips and he couldn't resist the temptation it offered. Moving his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, he forced her head to the side and plunged his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her gasp of surprise.

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead into hers.

He needed to be clear this time. He couldn't lose her again, and even though he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop no matter what her answer was, he still needed to say it. "This will change everything, Emma. If you don't want that, you need to tell me now… because if we do this, I'll never be able to go back."

She moved her hands to his face and made him meet her eyes.

She was smiling at him as she responded, "This won't change anything, Killian. I'm still going to want you tomorrow as much as I did yesterday. Only now, you'll be in your bed with me and I won't have to fantasize about it anymore. Now, when I'm overcome with the temptation to kiss you, I won't have to hold back."

And she didn't. Her lips were back on his in an instant as she buried her hands in his hair and tightened her legs around his waist.

He wasted no time as he gripped her hips and ground into her. The air in the room crackled as they savagely groped at each other. There wasn't anything soft or timid in it. It was all raw passion and need, straining muscles and heated skin.

His hands worked at the button of her jeans and she let her legs fall to the floor. As soon as the zipper gave way, he plunged his hand inside, seeking the proof that she did, indeed, want this. When his fingers met the wet heat of her, he groaned into her neck, pressing his tongue into the hollow of her throat.

"God, Killian," she groaned, as worked her, rubbing his hand over her core and using his fingers to tease at her entrance.

She moved her hands down, attacking his belt buckle and attempting to kick her boots off at the same time. She stumbled as the first one came off and he steadied her. He wanted to help her with the other but to do that, he'd need to pull his hand out of her pants and away from her blistering heat and he wasn't ready to do that just yet. She was going to come undone for him first. So he used his body to press her further into the cool metal of the refrigerator and held her captive there, his fingers sinking deep into her heat. The move accomplished its mission when her hands fell away from his belt and her head fell back with a light thud.

But Emma Swan was not one to be deterred. A moment later she was reaching for him again, pushing her hands into the tight space between their bodies saying, "Killian, please, I need..."

"I know what you need, love. And, I promise, you'll have it soon enough." He punctuated his words by grinding his cock into her hip, "but first you're going to come for me. Right here."

He pushed the hand between her thighs up further into her warmth, lifting her body almost entirely off the floor and shoving her back into the refrigerator in the process. She gripped his shoulders for balance even as her eyes popped open in surprise. A stilted whimper left her mouth which he immediately swallowed into his own.

The jeans she was wearing were restricting his movements, so he started pushing them down over her hips with his free hand and got frustrated when they resisted. He couldn't get the angle he wanted and he groaned in frustration.

Apparently realizing his dilemma, Emma pushed the pants down herself until they were half-way down her thighs. A choked moan left her mouth when he moved his hand into a better position buried two fingers deep into her passage. His free hand found her breast and tweaked the hardened nipple through her clothes as his mouth reattached to the hollow of her neck.

Her pulse was raging under his tongue as she groaned. "That's right, love. Let me hear what I do to you. I want to make you moan and scream, whimper and gasp. By the time I'm through with you I want you to be hoarse from the sounds you've made," he told her as he felt her walls begin to flutter.

He pushed into her harder, faster, and she moaned his name as she came, her fingers digging into his back as her walls clamped down and her body bucked into his hand.

He slowed his movements and pulled his head back to look at her flushed face, her mouth hanging open and her eyes closed as she rode out the aftermath of her orgasm.

_God, she was beautiful._

He continued to stroke her softly until she opened her eyes.

"I love you," she said the moment she did.

His heart nearly stopped beating at her whispered confession, then jolted back to a frenzied pace an instant later. His breath was caught in his throat and he opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out.

She smiled at his reaction and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. When she met his eyes again, hers were dancing with delight. She laid her head back against the refrigerator door and tilted it to the side, as he continued to struggle with his voice.

"Have I rendered you speechless, darling," she teased, her smile wide as she lifted her arms to lay them over his shoulders.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, "I believe you have, love," he said, his heart still hammering. His hands were shaking as he reached down and pulled her jeans back up over her hips. He took his time as he did so to give himself another moment to revel in the joy of this moment.

_She loved him._

Once her jeans were in place he rested her hands on her hips and slowly glided them up her sides, watching her body's reaction as he did so. She hummed in the back of her throat, squirming slightly as his thumbs passed over her breasts. When his hands reached her face, he cupped her cheeks and looked into her eyes. She met his gaze head on with a knowing smile as she bit her lower lip.

"I love you, Emma Swan."


	13. Chapter 13

She couldn't resist.

She was coming down from the most intense orgasm of her life (fuck, the man was a sex _god_ ), floating on a wave of euphoria, her knees weak and her body sated, and she just couldn't resist.

Because she needed him to _know_.

She loved him.

And she knew he loved her, too. She wasn't sure exactly when it hit her, but she _knew_. Somewhere between him telling her that he hadn't wanted to lose her and his warning that this would change everything, it had become so beautifully clear: This man, this incredible man, loved her.

The knowledge had heightened every touch his lips, every stroke of his hand, until her body had been nothing but one giant exposed nerve, careening toward the completion he was so desperate to give her.

When she opened her eyes and saw the look of adoration on his face, she had to tell him. She didn't want to waste another second without him knowing she felt the same.

"I love you."

His reaction was perfect. The shock and awe on his face was an image she would carry with her for the rest of her life - _god,_ what did she ever do to deserve a man like him? He was everything a man was supposed to be. He was beautiful, inside and out... sweet and gentle... intense and generous and _perfect_ and he loved her.

She leaned back against the refrigerator and watched him struggle to speak, joy emanating through her and asked, "Have I rendered you speechless, darling?"

He looked down and fingered at the hem of her shirt, his voice low and rough as he replied, "I believe you have, love."

As his unsteady hands, ( _jesus_ \- he was actually shaking) pulled her jeans back into place, she felt her own body started to tremble, the intensity of the moment hitting her like a shock wave. She thought she knew how much she meant to him but as he settled his hands on her hips and swallowed, she realized what he felt for her was deeper than she had ever imagined.

He touched her with reverence, like she was the most fragile and precious thing in the world, as he slid his hands up her body. His face was flushed and his eyes dark as they traced the movement until he had her face cradled in his hands. He looked deep into her eyes and her heart skipped a beat.

"I love you, Emma Swan."

She thought she was prepared to hear him say it, but the moment the words left his lips a jolt of electricity crackled through her entire system. Her breath caught in her throat, backing up into her lungs as her heart stopped and started again, fluttering madly in her chest.

Then he was leaning forward, kissing her softly. She sighed into it, her heart full to bursting, as he pushed his tongue past her lips, rubbing it slowly against hers. It was like no other kiss she'd ever had, delicate and tender, gentle and tantalizing as his thumbs rubbed against her cheeks, and it left her breathless. He kept her close when he broke away, his hands still cradling her face, as he rubbed their noses together and breathed a sigh of contentment.

She turned her head to the right and ran her lips across his palm before whispering, "Take me to bed, Killian."

He leaned back and smiled, that sweet, beautiful smile of his, and led her to his room.

Once they were there, she put her hands on his shoulders and urged him to sit on the edge of the bed. Holding him still, she stepped in between his legs and reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. His eyes darkened and his hands went to her hips, gazing up at her like she was a beautiful treasure and he would be happy for the rest of his life just looking at her.

It boosted her confidence and she took a step back to slide off her remaining boot. "The night you brought me here..." she whispered, watching him as she worked the jeans off her legs, "I was terrified you'd open your eyes, realize it was me and stop."

He shook his head in denial and looked like he was going to say something but she pressed a finger to his lips. "I thought any second you'd reconsider, and I was so scared…" She kicked her jeans to the side and knelt between his thighs as she reached for his shirt, lifted it over his head and tossed it away. "I'd wanted you for so long..." she told him, running her hands along the plains of his chest, her fingers spread wide as she explored him. His chest was rising and falling quickly beneath her palms and the muscles of his stomach quivered when she ran her hands along the waistline of his pants.

"Emma," his voice was a husky plea as she reached for his belt.

"All those women I thought you'd been with..." she continued as she loosened his belt and unzipped his pants, "I was so jealous… thinking of you touching them the way I wanted you to touch me." She leaned back on her heels and started working on his shoes as he gripped the edge of the mattress. "That night, in the bar, when you told me you'd miss me... I didn't know what you were trying to say. I knew you cared about me, but I thought you were just saying goodbye. I didn't realize… You loved me then, didn't you? That's why you turned all those women down?"

"Yes," he breathed.

Tears stung her eyes as she nodded. Christ, she really didn't deserve him. It was a miracle he didn't hate her after what she did.

She laid his shoes and socks to the side and tugged at pants. He lifted up long enough for her to pull them off as she continued, careful to keep her eyes down to hide her tears. "I loved you, too," she told him quietly, "and I'd waited for you to look at me like that for so long. When you asked me to come home with you… I couldn't resist. I didn't realize… I thought my heart was the only one at risk," she rasped. She laid his pants down carefully next to his shoes, rose back up and rested her hands on his thighs, swallowing past the lump in her throat, "I never dreamed that you - "

"Emma, you don't have to do this," he said, nudging at her chin with his thumb and forefinger, trying to get her to look at him, but she resisted, keeping her eyes away from his.

"Yes, I do," she said, tracing a pattern on his thigh, "I have to because I need you to know that I didn't plan to leave you that way." She risked a glance at him and saw his impossibly blue eyes melting with tenderness before she looked away again. "I thought I'd be able to handle it. I thought I'd be able to wake up with you the next morning and still go. But that night... It was so beautiful. And when I woke up in your arms, I knew… I _wouldn't_ be able to do it. I wish I could've but…" The emotions choked her and she swallowed hard. She looked back to him as she wiped the tears from her face, her chest aching, "You were right. I wasn't ready. But not for the reason you thought. I loved you so much, and I'm so sorry – "

"Stop, love," he cut her off by pressing his thumb across her lips as he wiped at her tears, "You've nothing to apologize for. If I'd woken up next to you that day, I would have told you loved you. And if I'd been standing next to that car as you drove away, I don't know what I would've…" he trailed off as he shook his head, "There's no use in regrets. We're here now... Maybe everything worked out as it was meant to. I know you don't believe in destiny, Swan, but I do... and I believe you're mine."

She drew a shaky breath, the ache in her chest releasing its grip on her lungs as he tucked her hair behind her ear and gently pulled her to her feet.

"We could play 'what if' all night," he said quietly, "but it wouldn't change anything. And I, for one, don't want to waste another moment second guessing." He moved his hand to the back of her neck and started kneading at the tension there. "All I want right now is to be with you. I want to see if reality lives up to the memory."

She tried to reply but before the words left her mouth, he was covering it with his own. He kissed her with patience and care, taking his time as he turned her so that the back of her knees hit the bed. He slowly removed the rest of their clothes, the shakiness from earlier now gone. His hands moved with confidence and skill as he flicked open her bra and pulled the strap from her shoulder, kissing along the outside of her ear.

It was a mystery how he managed to comfort and arouse her at the same time, how her heart could be beating as fast as it was and still feel such peace. He lifted her and placed her in the middle of the bed. It was like her own personal miracle, she thought as he covered her body with his. His erection was nestled against her in the perfect spot as his mouth worked its magic along her neck and shoulders, sucking and teasing with slow, deliberate ease. He continued just like that for what seemed like eternity, seducing her quietly in the dying light of day.

The scruff of his beard was a delicious contrast to the softness of his tongue and she sighed his name. She was getting more slick with each passing moment, but when he dipped his head and turned his attention to her breasts, the heat burst through her, dripping from her core.

She anchored her hands in his hair to keep from floating right off the bed as his hand ghosted over her belly. He stopped just short of where she was desperate to feel him and she pushed up her hips in a silent plea. He groaned into her breast, the moist heat of his breath tantalizing her nipple in the process and she buried her fingers deeper into his hair, a choked whimper falling from her lips.

His hand moved away from her stomach to glide along the outside of her thigh all the way to her knee, before he moved it between her legs and started tracing upward. He rose up above her and met her eyes, his cock pressed into her hip where he ground it against her as his hand made its way to the top of her leg… so close, so very close.

"Please," she groaned as her body strained toward him.

Finally, he dipped his fingers into her, dragging them against her walls, and she almost came right then, her body bowing back and a cry escaping her lips. He pumped them into her once, twice, a feral and guttural sound tearing from his chest. "Fuck, Emma, you're so wet," his voice sounded as desperate as she felt when he ground his cock into her hip again. His eyes were clenched shut, a look akin to pain on his face as he whispered, "I'm sorry, darling. I can't wait. I've got to have you."

"Yes," she rasped, nodding, as she tried to drag him down to her but the heat of his body suddenly left hers and she whimpered in protest. "What are you doing?" she whined. She opened her eyes to see him reaching for the table next to the bed.

"I've just got to get - "

"You don't need that," she told him and reached for his arm.

The look of surprise on his face might have been comical if she weren't so desperate for him, her body near vibrating with need.

"You're sure?" he asked.

She nodded and pulled at his waist. He immediately came back to her, his warmth enveloping her as he lifted her hips and lined up to her entrance.

She reached down and clawed at him, urging him forward as he plunged. The combined force caused him to slam home and a surprised gasp filled the air. She wasn't sure if it was his or her own, but it didn't matter. He was buried to the hilt inside her and all she could think was how incredible it felt.

She'd thought she'd exaggerated the memory of his body joined with hers. She thought there was no way it was actually as good as she remembered but now, as he held himself frozen inside her, she realized her memories didn't even come close.

His husky voice cut through her thoughts. "Bloody hell, love, you feel better than I remember. I didn't think it was possible."

The fact that their thoughts mirrored each other didn't surprise her in the least as she replied, "I didn't either."

They held completely still, staring into each other's eyes for a moment before he began to move. His hand groped for hers and caged it on the pillow next to her head, driving into her with long deliberate strokes. He whispered into her skin as he moved, telling her how amazing she was, how beautiful, how hot and wet, how good it felt to be inside her. He weaved a spell over her with his words, casting her into a realm where nothing existed except the movement of their bodies as they rocked together, finding a rhythm that had them both gasping for air.

His mouth came back to hers and he kissed her passionately, nipping at her lips as the pace increased. He released her hand to move his under her thigh and lifted her leg up so that he could go even deeper. His mouth sucked a long line down her neck. God, she was on fire, everything racing and pulling and crashing inside of her, the pleasure rising and holding her suspended as she wrapped her legs around him.

He found that spot that made her vision gray and she gasped. He pushed for it again and again and again, his strokes strong and sure, his chest rubbing into her breasts and his mouth working its way across to her ear. They were both covered in sweat, panting and straining as he relentlessly drove them higher.

The pressure was building, her body tightening, and she grabbed for his shoulders. Her hands slipped against his sweat-slickened skin and she used her nails to anchor herself. He hissed out a breath and his rhythm faltered for an instant before he rammed himself back into her with a long groan.

She whimpered his name – god, it was too much. "I love you," she gasped as she tried to hold on, tried to wait for him to join her, but the emotions were raging against one another, waves of them rising up and falling back until they clashed low in her belly and she couldn't fight it any longer.

He said her name, a warning in his voice and joy shot through her. She wanted to respond, to tell him she was there, too, but the sound of his voice had already sent her over the edge, the waves swirling and cresting as ecstasy burst out and she fell. He continued to thrust as her body shook with the force of it, her orgasm washing through her.

A moment later he stiffened, buried himself deep and gripped her hair as he pulsed inside her. She felt his warmth shoot into her, forcing a wrecked and broken sound from her mouth. She rocked her hips slowly, helping him ride it out before he collapsed against her and burrowed his face in her neck.

They held still like that for several minutes, him still buried within her and her arms wrapped around his waist, as their heartrates returned to normal and the sweat dried against their skin.

When he finally started to pull away, she tightened her arms.

"Stay," she whispered.

He leveraged himself up on one elbow. "Gladly, love," he sighed with a smile and ran his thumb along her jawline to her chin. He applied the slightest bit of pressure, encouraging her to open her mouth before he covered it and swept his tongue against hers.

With a quiet sigh and a satisfied grin, he leaned his head in his hand and looked at her.

"Better than the memory?" she asked.

"Infinitely better," he said, kissing her again. He idly started running his fingers through her hair, working through the knots.

She purred in the back of her throat and stretched a languidly. Looking to the window, she saw the sunlight had almost completely faded away.

"How much more time do you think we have before David gets home?"

"His text said he would probably be late so at least another hour, I would think. Why?"

"Because, I think it's time I try to make you hoarse."


	14. Chapter 14

He'd never tire of this. The sight of the woman he adored so completely driving him to distraction as she drug every sound possible from his lips.

She was magnificent in her seduction, her eyes promising everything he'd ever wanted and her body giving it to him with such intensity that he was light-headed. She thoroughly explored him with her hands and mouth as she made good on her promise, practically daring him to try to hold back.

But he didn't want to hold back. Not now. Not ever. She was his, finally, and he wanted to give her everything. His sighs filled the room, his moans matched hers as she moved against him. He gasped, he whimpered, he groaned out his pleasure. Curses, praises, incoherent mumblings fell from his mouth. It didn't matter what the words were, every sound he made seemed to spur her on.

He'd fantasized about her this way, alluring and seductive, but never in all his imaginings had he even come close to this. The sight of her as she looked up at him from under her lashes, a secretive and promising smile on her lips, the feel of her nails dragging over his chest and abdomen, the smell of her hair as it fell like a waterfall around them.

She stroked his rigid length slowly as she ran her tongue over his chest and sucked his nipple into her mouth. His body reacted instinctively, arching off the bed as he tightened his fist in her hair. Then her mouth was on his, stealing the air from his lungs as she kissed him. He returned the kiss mindlessly, attacking her lips, his tongue mating with hers in a primitive dance, swirling and battling, his hand holding her head captive above his as he tugged her hair.

She continued like that for what felt like eternity, stroking and kissing him until he was near writhing beneath her. When he nipped at her bottom lip she squeezed her fingers around him tight, making him swear harshly. She was driving him mad, his sanity slipping away to be replaced by nothing but the need to take the pleasure she was giving him and give it back to her with the same determination. But when he tried to reach for her by pushing his hand between their bodies, she caught it and wrapped their fingers together, slamming it down next to his head.

He groaned in frustration, "Let me touch you, love. I want to feel…"

"Not yet," she whispered and pushed her flaming heat over him, trapping his straining erection against his stomach. She caught his other hand and held it still as well while she kissed him long and slow.

She slid her wetness up and down his shaft until he was nearly crazed with need, his hips rocking with hers until he whined. His body was vibrating, his heart beating a staccato against his ribs as he tried to get her to release his hands. She held fast and pushed down harder, moving up enough so that her nipple was in reach of his mouth. He dipped his head and gave it a quick hard suck. It was enough to distract her for one brief moment and he managed to free one of his hands. She caught it again before he could touch her and he groaned again.

"Enough teasing, darling," he ground out, "I can't… I need..."

He ended his words on a hiss of breath as she gave them both what they'd been craving. She sank down on him in one long stroke and his vision blurred, his eyes rolling back in his head.

As soon as he was fully seated inside her she sat up and began to ride, her hands still holding his captive. He'd never seen anything so fantastic, the beauty of her body on full display to his eyes as she rose and fell above him. Her skin was flushed, her eyes closed, her hair falling around her shoulders and curling around her breasts as it bounced with each thrust of her hips.

Her eyes opened to his, hooded and dark, and she smiled wickedly, running their joined hands across his stomach so that her thumb could rub along the base of him as she lifted and sank back down.

His vision flashed white and he inhaled sharply before he looked down to see himself disappearing into her again and again. His view was obscured when she leaned over just long enough to tease at his mouth, a quick suck on his bottom lip. Then she was sitting up again, riding him harder, lifting their joined hands to her chest. Finally, she released his hands and he immediately cupped her perfect breasts in his palms and teased at her nipples.

He wanted to make her as insane as he was so he moved one hand down and started drawing light circles into the tender flesh just above where they were joined. Her head fell back so far that he could feel her hair tickle at his thighs and she whined, long and loud.

"Just like that," she whispered, "that feels so good."

Fuck, it had to be the biggest turn on of his life, watching her fluid body rise and fall as she took pleasure from him and gave it back in equal measure. It seemed impossible but he was already hurtling toward the finish line.

"Emma, love, I'm…" he gasped.

She must have heard the urgency in his voice because she immediately leaned back further and fucked herself down onto him harder, bracing her hands on his legs. Her fingernails were digging into his thighs, possibly drawing blood, but he didn't care. All he could think about was trying to rein himself back as he watched her move above him, her eyes holding his, her hair swaying over her breasts, her thighs clenching tight around him.

"Come on, love," he ground out as he pushed his thumb into her, circling faster, trying to take her with him.

Her eyes slid shut. "I'm… don't stop," she choked as she lifted a hand to her breast and she threw her head back, shouting her release. _Thank god, because he knew he wasn't going to last much longer._ He lifted his hips up and held them still as she milked her orgasm, her walls clenching him tight, trembling around him until he felt the wetness seep out of her.

The feeling chased away the last bit of sanity he had left as he clamped his hands around her thighs and forced her to move. He was afraid he might be leaving bruises on her but considering the wrecked sound he heard, he didn't think she cared. Her hips started rocking again in stilted, jerky movements as he jutted up and into her. She was almost sobbing his name, begging him for something, but he couldn't ask what because in the next instant he was coming hard, his hoarse shout filling the air.

She fell forward onto his chest and continued to move as her hand buried itself in his hair and she sucked along his collarbone. "Don't stop," she said again, "don't stop yet." Her mouth moved to his shoulder and she used her teeth on him. The orgasm that had been nearly over renewed itself with the nip of her teeth and he growled as he savagely pushed and pulled at her hips.

Another throaty moan filled the room as she pushed down to take as much of him as she could and stilled, his name an almost inaudible grunt as she came again. She kept him buried deep for a moment before she collapsed against his chest, her head landing on his shoulder and her hair falling over his arm.

Sanity returned slowly as he caught his breath, idly rubbing his fingers up and down her back in a light caress. _She was bloody marvelous._ Her face turned into his throat and she breathed deep as her nails scratched lightly through his hair. They held still for a few long moments as the fog cleared from his mind, and he realized she was sniffling lightly into his neck and a tear fell against his skin.

"Are you alright, darling?" he asked quietly. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and attempted to pull her head up so he could see her face.

She kept her face stubbornly buried in his throat as she nodded, "Yeah, I'm just…" She took a deep breath and released it, "God, I'm sorry, that was just… I need a minute."

She tried to pull away from him but he caught her face with both hands and forced her to meet his eyes. They were brimming with tears and she tried to wipe them away but he beat her to it. He knew that look – the one that said she was embarrassed and unsure. Yesterday, he would have let her retreat, but not now.

Not this time.

"Hey, tell me," he whispered.

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Really. I just…" She trailed off and closed her eyes, "I love you. And I… I just can't believe we're here. I didn't think I'd ever have this."

The last words came out in a choked whisper and he was suddenly overcome with anger at everyone who had ever hurt her. "Look at me, Emma," he breathed, and when she did, he added, "You'll always have me, Swan. Always. This is just the beginning for us."

She nodded with another sniffle and buried her face in his neck again.

He placed his hand at the small of her back and squeezed their bodies together tightly, holding her as close as he could. She clutched him in return, working a hand under his shoulder and breathing deep. He pressed a kiss into her temple and she burrowed her nose further into his neck. He both heard and felt her sigh of contentment as she breathed into his skin. Their hearts were lined up to one another and he swore they were beating in perfect time.

He didn't know how much time passed as they clung to each other, the only sound coming from the twin beating of their hearts. This was what he had always wanted. To be possessed by this amazing woman, to feel her soft skin against his, to know without doubt that she was his and he was hers and no matter what life threw at them, they'd face it together. The poignancy of the moment made his own eyes sting as they clung to each other in the quiet peace, the world around them a faraway place.

Emma was the first to move as she lifted her mouth to his ear. Her voice held no trace of her earlier uncertainty as she whispered, "You know, we've still got most of that hour left."

He laughed. The woman would be the death of him. "Bloody hell, Swan, even I have my limits. But if you're willing to try…"

She swatted his chest as she met his eyes. "That's not what I meant. I just thought we could raid the refrigerator. I don't know about you, but I could go for some Fruit Loops."

"And why would we need privacy for that?" he asked, wiping away the lingering wetness beneath her eyes.

She raised her eyebrow and grinned. Before he could stop her, she slipped out of the bed and started for the door. As she opened it, she looked at him over her shoulder, "Because, we're going to eat them naked."

She disappeared through the door with a chuckle.

He was up and moving as soon as he'd picked up his jaw. He grabbed the blanket (just in case) and chased the sound of her laughter her down the hall.

When he found her in the kitchen, she already had the cereal sitting on the counter and was turning to the refrigerator. He dropped the blanket in the doorway and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she grabbed the handle.

"You are a vixen, darling," he said pulling her close and kissing her shoulder.

Her free hand came up and wrapped around the back of his neck, angling her head to the side to give his lips more room. Her groan turned into a laugh as her hand tightened on the door handle.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever be able to look at this refrigerator again without blushing."

He chuckled into her skin. "Is that so?" he teased, "Well, in that case, I will endeavor to make you blush at the site of every appliance we have. Take your pick, love."

Now it was her turn to chuckle. "Mary Margaret would be appalled if she found out."

"I won't tell her if you won't."

"Food first," she said and pushed him back to pull the door open and grab the milk.

They shared a bowl standing at the counter, taking turns with the same spoon, grinning at each other and kissing between nearly every bite.

"It seems I rubbed you a little raw here," he said, fingering at her jaw.

"I'm almost afraid to look at your back," she responded but turned him around anyway as she spoke. Her breath hissed through her teeth at the site and she gingerly ran her fingers over his shoulders. "Maybe I should trim my nails."

He turned back around, "Maybe I should shave," he teased.

"Don't even think about it," she said with mock severity as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Her bare breasts were pressed into his chest, her green eyes dancing with mirth and he was struck again at just how beautiful she was, how incredibly _right_ it felt to hold her like this, her hair in a wild tangle and her lips quirked up in a smile.

He wanted this forever, these simple moments of happiness.

As they cleaned up from both their cereal and the dinner rubbish that was still on the table, his eyes landed on a piece of paper lying on the counter. It was an application for an apartment complex nearby. The sight of it made his stomach clench and the bubble of happiness burst.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself but he didn't want her to get her own place. He wanted her to stay. He liked the sight of her things sitting with his on the dresser. He liked sharing his bathroom and his closet with her. And, now that she would, he couldn't wait to share his bed with her, too.

"I hate to say it, but it's getting late," Emma's voice cut into his thoughts. "David could get home any minute. We should probably put something on."

He turned to see her closing the pantry and his eyes raked down her. "I'd have to agree, love. Although I'm not sure I like the idea of you covering up that beautiful body."

"Well, I don't have to," she said as she turned to face him, giving him a full view of her magnificent form and biting at her lower lip. "We could stay in your room for the rest of the night," she winked.

"I like the way you think, Swan," he said and crossed to her.

She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, her laugh echoing through the apartment as he carried her back to bed.

"We left the comforter in the kitchen," Emma chuckled as he settled her onto the mattress.

"I'll get it," he said and leaned forward to give her a light kiss on the lips.

Emma, though, had other ideas, clamping her hand in his hair and opening her mouth to kiss him long and lingeringly. Then she gave him a light shove toward the door. "Hurry back," she purred as she lay back on the bed, "I'll be waiting."

He practically ran to the kitchen.

As he picked up the blanket, his eyes landed once again on the application sitting on the counter. He crossed the room slowly and stared at the offending piece of paper. He was tempted to wad it up and throw it in the trash but he resisted.

 _One step at a time_ , he thought, turning his back on it. Just because she loved him didn't mean she was ready for a step like that.

When he entered his room again, he found her waiting for him with a sinful smile on her face.

It was a long time before they finally slept.

K&EK&EK&E

Emma awoke slowly, stretching her aching muscles, and it took her a minute to remember why she was so sore. She smiled softly as the night came back to her and she bit her lip.

There was a weight on her hip and she reached down to see what it was. When she found Killian's hand possessively resting there her smile grew.

The smell of bacon frying permeated her senses and she breathed deep. She could definitely get used to this. Waking up next to an adorably rumpled Killian Jones and having breakfast waiting for her. This had to be the most perfect morning of her life.

She took a moment to admire the man next to her, the way his hair fell against his forehead and his lashes fell against his cheek. His mouth was hanging open and drool was gathering at the edge. It made him look younger and _really_ undignified and she wanted to giggle at the thought of the overconfident sex god drooling all over his pillow, especially when he smacked his lips together and mumbled something inaudible. She pushed the hair off his forehead and he twitched, the drop of slobber balanced precariously on the edge of his lip before he sucked in a breath and flipped over with a grumpy sound (she did giggle then).

The smell of bacon was too much to resist so she tiptoed out the door, leaving Killian to get some more rest, and meandered toward the kitchen. As she approached she heard hushed voices and stopped dead at what she heard.

"I'm just worried," Mary Margaret was saying.

"Why?" David replied.

"You didn't see Emma yesterday. Like I told you, she was really upset when I left and I just…"

"Considering the noises coming from that room when we snuck in last night, I'd say they worked it out."

_Wait… They snuck in?_

"You're probably right but - "

"Are you worried about him or her?"

"Both," she said, "they're both so good at hiding their feelings. I just want to see how they act around each other this morning."

"Wait. I see your point with Emma. She's always played her feelings close to the vest, and I understand why, but Killian?"

Mary Margaret sighed, "He may be worse than she is. I haven't told you how I found out that he loved her."

Emma almost stopped breathing. _Did everyone know?_ How freaking blind had she been not to see it? She was tempted to march into the kitchen and demand to hear the whole story but as Mary Margaret continued, she realized she didn't have to.

"I found him in the living room a few months after graduation, drunk - and I mean, falling down drunk. Remember how he was there for a while? You know, his sudden change in late night _activities_? We should have had a revolving door installed. You never noticed they were all blondes?"

Emma's heart was beating so hard she was surprised it didn't give her away. On the one hand, she was slightly relieved to hear that Mary Margaret hadn't known while they were in college (If he was hiding it so well that even Mary Margaret didn't notice then she didn't feel as bad). But on the other, her heart broke to hear what Killian had gone through after she left.

"I suspected it had something to do with Emma, but that night… You should have seen him, David. He was completely wrecked, rambling on about how he couldn't be what she thought he was and he wasn't going to try anymore. How he'd rather be alone than not have her. How he didn't even get to say goodbye… I'd never seen him like that. And I never did again. The next morning, I knew he didn't remember telling me so I didn't mention it and… we just went on with life as usual – but that's when he stopped bringing women home."

The sizzle of eggs being poured into the frying pan suddenly filled the air. The sound made Emma gasp and she prayed they didn't hear it. She was about to make a hasty retreat to the bathroom and try to sort through this new knowledge but Mary Margaret continued.

"I started watching him every time her name came up and, even looking for it, I could only catch a flicker of something in his eyes. I thought for a while that he'd gotten over it but that morning, when you told him she was coming to town, I thought he was going to pass out. He loves her so much and I just want her to love him, too."

"You don't think she does?"

"I don't know. Emma is even harder to read than he is. I tried to mention him as often as possible when we talked to see if she'd say anything but she never did. When we had our spa weekend, I brought up his name several times trying to gauge her reaction… but it's just so hard to tell with Emma. She's always been so guarded."

"She's got her reasons for that."

"I know. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It just makes me worry. You saw her with Neal. She was never especially demonstrative with him. And Killian may seem like he's got a lot of self-confidence but when it comes to Emma… he's always been insecure. He's never been sure of her feelings for him, even when it was just friendship. You know why I think he didn't go with us to visit her at Christmas?"

"He had to work."

"No, I don't think that was it. I think he didn't _believe_ us when we told him she'd invited him."

One of the kitchen chairs scratched against the floor and Emma realized David had gotten up. She wanted to hear the rest but panic seized her and she practically ran to the bathroom, thanking all the powers of the universe when she made it unnoticed.

She stared at herself in the mirror as she drew a few deep breaths. Her chest was aching and her hands were shaking as she splashed water on her face.

_I found him in the living room a few months after graduation…falling down drunk._

She knew she'd hurt him but – fucking hell.

_His sudden change in late night activities… You never noticed they were all blondes?_

He had tried to forget her. He had tried to move on after she left but he _couldn't_.

She was ashamed to admit it but the thought made her smile. He was hers and no one else would ever be able to replace her in his life. The biggest fears she'd ever had were _nothing_ when it came to him. He'd _never_ send her back or let her down. Last night, when he'd told her that she'd always have him, a part of her was still afraid to believe it but now… Now she _knew_. Now she _believed_.

She frowned slightly as she thought of something else Mary Margaret had said.

_Killian may seem like he's got a lot of self-confidence but when it comes to Emma… he's always been insecure._

A new determination filled her. She'd make sure he knew every day how much she loved him – because now it was her turn to make _him_ believe.

She dried her face and took another look in the mirror. She realized she was smiling. Only yesterday, she'd wondered what it was like for David and Mary Margaret - what it was like to be _sure -_ and now she knew.

It was the most incredible feeling.

Her heart felt light and her breath came easy – like a weight had been lifted from her chest – a weight that had been there all her life. It was surprisingly freeing and she was almost overcome by an urge to do a happy dance right there. All those stupid romantic comedies she'd always made fun of and now she wanted to go back and watch all of them again.

She walked to the kitchen again, clearing her throat loudly as she passed through the living room. David and Mary Margaret were already sitting at the table eating. It was almost comical the way they were watching so intently to see who was coming in.

She smiled widely at them as she said, "Good morning."

"'Morning," David replied.

"It smells delicious," she commented and picked up a plate from the counter.

Neither of them spoke, they just stared at her, apparently at a loss for words.

"I guess you have a lot of questions," she prodded them.

She filled her plate while she waited. She could almost hear their silent conversation (she couldn't wait until she and Killian could do that). Apparently, David was voted as spokesperson since he was the one who finally said, "Only one, really. Are you happy?"

She turned to face them again. "The man of my dreams loves me," she said, matter-of-factly, "Of course, I'm happy."

"So, you love him?" Mary Margaret asked, arching a brow.

"Yeah, I do. I always did," she said.

Mary Margaret was up and hugging her before she could blink and they both laughed. She met David's eyes over her friend's shoulder and he smiled and nodded to her.

"Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll make a plate for him, too. You know, the whole breakfast in bed thing."

Mary Margaret's face looked like it was going to split in two, she was smiling so big, "Absolutely. Go ahead. I'm sure he'd love that."

Emma grabbed another plate and started filling it. While she did, Mary Margaret went to the pantry and produced a tray.

Once the plates were full and on the tray David piped up, "What, no Fruit Loops?"

Emma laughed, "We finished them off last night. I'll get some more today."

She turned to go but the sound of a door stopped her in her tracks. Dammit. She wanted to be there when he woke up.

In no time flat, he was standing in front of her, looking winded and frantic and something twisted in her gut.

Mary Margaret was right. He wasn't confident when it came to her. He must have woken to find her missing and – dammit – he looked so scared. _She'd take care of that_ , she silently vowed. She'd spend the rest of her life convincing him that she was in this, that he never had to worry about her leaving him again.

His eyes scanned her quickly as he took in the tray with their breakfast on it. The fear was immediately replaced with an embarrassed smile and he scratched behind his ear.

"I was going to surprise you," she said awkwardly.

"I see that. Sorry, I just…"

Emma turned and put the tray down on the counter.

"You thought I'd left," she supplied softly, heedless of their audience.

He looked down to the floor, "I just didn't know where - "

She cut him off by taking his face in her hands and kissing him long and hard. _One step at a time_ , she thought. And right now, she needed to make a point, not only to him, but to everyone. She wasn't going to hide her feelings. She would show him, she would show everyone, she loved him every chance she got.

She could almost taste the relief on his tongue as he drew a sharp breath in through his nose and pulled her body into his. Apparently, he wasn't concerned about their audience either because he practically devoured her in the middle of the kitchen.

When they finally came up for air, she locked her arms around his neck and whispered, "Let's take this back to your room… and I don't just mean the food."

She felt the tension leave his body in a rush as he replied, "You read my mind, love."


	15. Chapter 15

She was gone. He knew it before he even opened his eyes. The warmth he'd awoken to several times during the night was no longer beside him.

He tried not to panic. He tried to keep his breathing even. But something about this just felt too familiar and his heart started pounding into his ribs. He told himself to calm down, that she wouldn't do this. She'd said she loved him and he knew those weren't words that came easily to her.

But, still, he couldn't stop himself as he sprang from the bed and pulled open a drawer to grab a t-shirt and a ragged pair of sweatpants. He saw her suitcase sitting in the corner and tried to take comfort in the site but the traitorous pounding in his chest didn't even slow. He quickly got dressed, all the while calling images to mind of the previous night, hoping that it would help him get control of his pounding pulse. The memories just made the panic worse, however. Even the remote possibility of her leaving after – he wouldn't survive it a second time.

He had to find her. _Now._

The urgency of the thought propelled him toward the kitchen at a breakneck pace. He skidded to a halt in the doorway and froze when he saw her holding the tray. Relief flooded him at the sight but the feeling was short-lived when he saw the look on her face. She could obviously tell what he'd been thinking and he looked away as his cheeks reddened with embarrassment and shame.

"I was going to surprise you."

"I see that." _Fuck_ , _what was he supposed to say?_ "Sorry, I just…"

She turned away from him to put the tray down and a new terror shot through him, sharp and paralyzing. She had every right to be furious with him. He certainly deserved it. Less than twenty-four hours ago she told him she loved him and now here he was, doubting her.

He held his breath when she turned back to him, awaiting what he expected to be a scathing set-down, but instead she just said, "You thought I'd left."

He tried to discern her level of anger by the tone of her voice but the words were spoken too matter-of-factly to give any indication, so he attempted to backtrack and deny it, "I just didn't know where - "

Her lips were on his before he could finish, her hands framing his face, and he sucked air in through his nose. Her lips were warm and welcoming and even though it had only been a few hours since they were last on his - _damnation_ \- he had already missed them. When her tongue prodded at his lips, he opened his mouth immediately and the kiss simply exploded. He let himself sink into the sweet oblivion of it as she directed his head to the side and kissed him deeper.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that not only was she not angry but she was kissing him breathless right in front of their friends. The realization filled him with new confidence and he took one strong step forward to close the little distance between them, angling his arm across her back and lifting her up on her toes.

(He knew they were making quite the display but he didn't care. It's not like David and Mary Margaret were always discreet.)

A sound he was already becoming familiar with reverberated in his ears and he pulled back in self-preservation, bringing his hand to her cheek and pressing their foreheads together as he took one last nip at her lips. They both held still an extra moment to catch their breath before she gave him a playful smile and suggested that they retire to his room. He instantly agreed (like he would ever turn down such an invitation).

She ushered him back to the bedroom, carrying the tray. He tried to take it from her but she refused with a wink and a nudge. It delighted him when she insisted that he get back into the bed and then waited until he was under the covers before she placed the tray across his lap. She gave him a light kiss, then climbed up and sat on his legs, the tray between them, while they ate.

Afterward, he made slow, passionate love to her, taking his time to map out every inch of her body and she nodded off in the afterglow with her head resting on his shoulder and her arm draped across his chest.

He was loathe to leave her so he snuggled into her side and joined her in sleep.

She awoke an hour later with a start that jostled him enough to bring him into semi-consciousness.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"'S not a problem," he murmured, turning to kiss the top of her head, "I kept you up late last night."

She chuckled and rubbed her cheek into his chest, "Yeah, you did," she hummed as she turned her head to plant a kiss on his skin, "but if I'm being honest, I haven't been sleeping that well since I got back."

He kept his eyes closed as her lips continued to rub back and forth on his chest while he idly traced circles into her hip, "Do you not find my bed comfortable?" he asked.

(He was already planning on purchasing a new mattress if she answered in the affirmative.)

He could feel her grin against his skin as she answered, "It's very comfortable. I just couldn't sleep." Her fingers were now tracing a path up and down his arm as her mouth moved to kiss a path along the line of his jaw and she added in a conspiratorial tone, "I think it _might_ have had something to do with the fact that I was in your bed wishing you were in it with me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep when the man you're aching for is only one door away?"

He quirked an eye open and grinned at her. "I would venture it's about the same as trying to sleep while the _woman_ you're aching for is only one door away."

She smiled at him and ran her fingers up to trace the line where she had just been kissing. "Yeah, I guess so."

Her fingers continued to trace the contours of his face and he closed his eyes again, sinking into the mattress and the quiet peace of the moment as they snuggled together in the morning light. He returned her caress by rubbing up and down her back with his thumb, content to stay in bed with her all day if she so desired.

"Don't you need to get to work?" she asked softly as her finger moved across his lips.

He kissed the tip of it, breathing a sigh and replied, "Ariel will call me if there is anything of import that requires my attention. But, right now, I'd say the most important thing I should be doing is lazing away this morning with you."

She made an appreciative sound. "I agree," she murmured.

He felt her reposition herself next to him, flipping over so that she was lying half on top of him with her fist on his chest and her chin resting on it. She went back to gently stroking his face before moving her questing fingers into the hair at his temple.

"Killian?"

"Yes, love?"

"Open your eyes."

He did as she asked as she cupped his cheek.

"I love you," she said, meeting his gaze steadily, "Please don't ever doubt that."

Something about the way she said it made his stomach flutter, like she was trying to tell him something more. He searched her eyes, trying to decipher what else was she meant but before he could figure it out, she leaned forward and gave him a chaste peck on the lips, then flattened her palm on his chest and turned to lay her cheek on it.

"I love you, too," he whispered.

…

The next several weeks were the happiest of Killian's life. Emma was still sharing his room and he was amazed at how easy things were between them, how they just seemed to _fit_ into each other's lives.

He'd never lived with a woman before (well, except for Mary Margaret but that didn't count) and he found it both intriguing and intimate. Every day, it seemed, he learned some new secret about her… like the way she could braid her hair in a matter of seconds or how she hummed as she took her first sip of coffee each morning.

She was surprisingly affectionate with him, even in public. It was almost like she was on a mission to see how many times she could touch him each day. She was constantly stroking his arm or leaning against him. He didn't think she'd be prone to such displays (he didn't recall her even holding Neal's hand while they were dating), but he wasn't complaining. He loved it when she cuddled up next to him on the couch (she suddenly had a thing for romantic comedies) or linked her arm through his as they walked through the store.

She started her new job and, even though her hours were as unpredictable as David's, they still managed to spend a great deal of time together.

He took her sailing, just as he had promised so long ago, and they ended the day by making love at sunset on the water. She showed up at his office one afternoon with takeout from Granny's and they'd locked themselves in for a _very_ enjoyable hour (Ariel's knowing smile confirmed that they weren't as quiet as he had hoped). And when she found him in the laundry room one evening, she suggested that perhaps the dryer was another appliance that should make her blush (he still had bruises from that one).

He had everything he'd ever wanted but in spite of that, or maybe because of it, every time he awoke and found her gone, his heart immediately started beating faster – and it didn't calm again until he had her in his arms. He was careful not to let her know about the flashes of panic (not like that first harrowing morning) but it took a great deal of effort.

Each time it happened, the first thing he would do was check to be sure her suitcase was still in the corner, then he would force himself to take five deep breaths. After that, he would dress and search the apartment until he found her, careful to keep his pace measured as he did so. She was usually in the kitchen and the one morning he didn't find her there his heart nearly beat out of his chest. He found her in the shower a few minutes later and he was pretty sure she knew what he'd been thinking since she pulled him in with her, still fully clothed, and ravished him under the spray, whispering over and over again that she loved him.

He felt guilty every time the panic set in but he couldn't get it to stop.

She loved him, he was sure of it. She told him so every chance she got, it seemed. He knew what they had was real – and he knew that she knew it, too. But no matter what he knew, he couldn't stop his body's reaction to finding her gone, his heart would immediately start pounding and his lungs would squeeze until he was nearly panting for breath.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the apartment application was still sitting on the kitchen counter. Every time he walked into the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to it. He didn't mention it – and neither did she – but it continued to sit there, silently taunting him.

He wanted more than anything for her to stay, to continue to share his bed and his room and his _life_ with her.

So, he just kept watching the application, waiting to see if she'd fill it out or toss it in the bin.

(He prayed ardently for the latter.)

She still kept most of her clothes in her suitcase – _although_ – some of her other things _were_ slowly making their way into drawers and the like. He was the one who started it. The morning after their first night together, he'd been tidying up the bathroom and _accidentally_ put her brush into the drawer. A few days later, her makeup found its way into another. He wasn't doing all of it, though. He wasn't the one who put her shoes in his closet and he hadn't added her earrings to his mother's jewelry box, either.

But, still, the application didn't move.

Exactly three weeks to the day since her arrival, they had their first official date. Emma had insisted that it wasn't necessary but Killian was determined. He took her out to dinner (during which he shared his dessert) and then took her for a walk along the pier, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm and her head on his shoulder.

Turning to kiss her on the temple, he said, "I'd like to show you something, if you don't mind walking a little further."

When she agreed, he led her a little further down to the docks where he pointed out an old fashioned ship docked in the harbor. "What do you think of that ship?"

"I think it looks like a pirate ship," she grinned.

"Aye, it is. I'm thinking of buying it and fixing it up."

"It's beautiful," she told him as she laced their fingers together.

"It is, but it needs a lot of work," he replied.

She only hummed in response as she released his hand and walked over to the rail, resting her hands on it as she looked out over the harbor. He followed behind her and caged her in, his chin on her shoulder.

Her body shivered slightly in the night air. "Are you cold, darling?"

"A bit."

"Here," he said as he pulled off his jacket and helped her put it on.

"Thanks," she murmured.

They returned to their earlier stance, his front to her back, looking out over the water, but this time she twined their fingers together and wrapped them around her waist as she leaned her head back, turning it to the side so that her forehead nuzzled into his cheek. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, basking in the peace of the moment. He still marveled at the way she fit so perfectly against him and he turned his head to brush a kiss against her hair.

After another few minutes of silence, she nodded in the direction of the ship and asked, "What would you name her? Since 'The Swan' is already taken?"

"The Jolly Roger, of course," he replied.

She chuckled, "And you'd be, who? Captain Jack Sparrow?" she asked, turning in his arms to face him, "Or maybe Blackbeard?" she added, running her finger along the scruff of his jaw.

He smiled and shook his head, "Jack Sparrow's ship is the Black Pearl and Blackbeard was a ruthless and cruel man. So, no, I wouldn't pick either of those."

"So, who would you pick?"

"Captain Hook."

"Captain Hook? Seriously?" she teased, pushing her tongue into her cheek and tilting her head to the side, "You don't look like a Captain Hook to me. I don't think wax mustaches would be your thing."

He smiled back at her and winked. "When I buy it – "

"When?"

"Yes, when. _When_ I buy it, I'll prove to you just how devilishly handsome Captain Hook can be."

She leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth. "I'll look forward to it," she whispered.

They made their way back to the car, stopping only long enough for him to buy her a rose from a street vendor before heading back to the apartment.

He followed her into the kitchen when they arrived so that she could put the rose in a vase and, as always, his eyes scanned the piece of paper on the counter as soon as they entered the room. He determinedly looked away.

After placing the vase in the middle of the kitchen table she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"That was the perfect date," she said softly, "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, milady," he replied. Then, at her amused look added, "Captain Hook would be obliged to address you as such, don't you think?"

"I'm no lady," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, but you are. You're _my_ lady."

She grinned and kissed him lightly on the lips. "And as your lady, how would I _address_ you?" she asked, kissing him on the jaw.

"Captain Hook?" she suggested.

He could only grunt as her lips moved to under his chin and he leaned his head back, his fingers anchoring on her hips.

"Maybe just Hook?" she whispered.

Her tongue glanced the spot under his ear and his breath caught in his throat.

"Or maybe just Captain?"

Her lips latched onto his neck and she sucked hard and, bloody hell, the woman's mouth was absolutely incredible.

"Killian will do," he rasped, closing his eyes and digging his fingers into her hips.

"Captain Killian Jones," she purred into his skin, "That has a nice ring to it."

He hummed in agreement as she switched to the other side of his neck and used her nose to push under his jaw, urging him to lift his head. When he did, she latched onto a new spot, sucking hard again and his vision blurred.

He hissed through his teeth and brought his hand to the back of her neck so that he could direct her mouth to his. God, he loved this, the way her mouth opened for him, the way she gripped at his waist and pulled their hips together. It always took so little provocation before he was hard and straining.

(There were times all it took was a look from her.)

She moved her hand to cup him through his jeans and he growled, changing the angle of the kiss and clutching her tighter. Just as he had the thought of pushing her back against the kitchen table and having her right there, the front door opened and they froze, staring at each other in amusement like two horny teenagers getting caught by their parents.

He knew it was Mary Margaret getting home from the dinner shift at the restaurant and he knew she usually went straight to bed but there was always the possibility she would drop something in the kitchen first. So, he waited, holding his breath as they stood together silently, looking toward the doorway. There was a metallic clank of keys being dropped on the table by the door and then the sound of her footsteps retreating away in the direction of the bedrooms.

Drawing a relieved breath, he turned back to Emma. Her gaze was still fixed on the doorway, her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles, and he couldn't help himself as he leaned down to run his tongue over her perfectly exposed neck. She made an absolutely delicious sound as he did so, her hand falling limply from her mouth and her head tilting further to the side as he found that spot he knew she liked at the base of her neck. She yanked at his hips, her fingers threading through his belt loops, as she ground into the bulge in his pants.

They strained against each other for a few more endless minutes, trying (in vain) to keep quiet before she nipped at his ear and whispered, "Why don't we take this to our room?"

He went completely still at her words.

_Our room?_

He wanted to ask what she meant but her lips were already moving from his ear back down to the hollow of his neck, working with such insistence that he couldn't form a single coherent word. By the time his voice returned he was laid out in _their_ bed, breathing heavy, having just been the recipient of the most intense orgasm of his life.

…

The next morning, he awoke early and wandered into the kitchen to get the coffee started. (Emma always liked it when he delivered a cup to her while she was in the bathroom, brushing her hair.) He set the coffee pot to brewing as a yawn escaped him and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Blearily, he made his way to the cupboard to get some cereal but as he crossed the room his eyes landed once again on the application.

He hadn't touched it since he'd noticed it sitting there because he was sure that if he did, it would end up being a wadded up ball of paper. Squaring his shoulders, he stopped in front of it and leaned on the counter, staring at it with distain. His jaw set, he drew a deep breath and picked it up. It was just a piece of paper, but even touching it made the blood pound in his veins.

_Why hadn't she thrown it away? Last night, she'd said 'our room,' hadn't she? He hadn't imagined that, right? So why was it still here? Was she actually still considering getting her own place?_

He swallowed hard at the thought and dropped the paper back on the counter as if it had burned him, clenching his hand into a fist.

She belonged _here_ , with him. He was sure of it - as sure as he was that she loved him. And he was sure she did. He could see it every time she looked at him. Her eyes would always light up in a way he'd never seen before, not even with Neal.

He pressed his clenched fist into the counter next to the application and sighed, using his other hand to rub his face.

_Didn't she know that if she left, he would be devastated? Didn't she know how much he would miss the way she habitually applied lotion to her elbows every night before she crawled into bed? How much he'd miss the smell of her hair when he woke up? Or how much he'd miss the simple sight of her perfume bottle sitting in the bathroom next to his aftershave?_

A light _ding_ from the coffee pot behind him pulled him from his musings. With a final sigh and a quiet curse, he turned away, his stomach tied in knots as he started toward the cabinet to pull down two mugs – but he was stopped short when his eyes landed on Emma, standing in the doorway, watching him.

By the look in her eyes, he could tell she'd been standing there for a while and she had definitely witnessed him glaring (and cursing) at the application.

He held his breath, waiting for her to speak.

K&EK&EK&E

Emma felt him get out of bed, she felt the light kiss to her forehead that he gave her each morning when he awoke. He dressed quietly, trying not to disturb her, and she feigned sleep as she listened carefully to his movements. After he shut the door softly behind him, her eyes popped open.

She'd finally done it. She'd finally had the courage to hint at the possibility of moving in permanently and he hadn't said anything in return.

_Our room._

Rolling over into the space he'd just vacated, she buried her nose in his pillow, drew a deep breath and huffed it out.

_Why hadn't he said anything?_

Maybe he didn't want her to stay. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe she'd misread all of the signs.

_No, she wouldn't believe it._

If he didn't want her to stay then he wouldn't panic every time she left him in bed to wake up alone. Because no matter how hard he tried to hide it, she could always see the tense line of his jaw and the almost manic look in his eyes the instant before they landed on her. She could always feel the barely controlled desperation in his body when he pulled her into his arms.

It made her heart ache every time.

Still, she didn't know what else she could do to reassure him. She told him she loved him every chance she got and she was openly affectionate with him no matter where they were. She'd been hesitant about the public displays at first but she realized quickly that they didn't bother her when he was the one on the receiving end of them. In fact, she found herself doing it without thinking most of the time, just to be close to him.

He'd been surprised at first, when she'd catch his hand in hers or link their arms together, and it took a while before the surprise faded. It took even longer for him to initiate any public affection and the first time he did, he'd looked at her questioningly as soon as their hands met, seeking reassurance that she was okay with it. Her lungs had squeezed over the insecurity on his face but she'd just smiled at him and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles.

(She'd never realized how comforting it was to hold someone's hand. She'd seen David and Mary Margaret do it for years but she never really got _why_ they did it. A part of her always assumed it was just to make sure people knew they were a couple. But now she understood the urge to be close, she understood the soothing warmth that accompanied the brush of fingers over knuckles and the reassuring squeeze of a hand linked with hers.)

But no matter how affectionate she was with him, no matter how many times she told him she loved him, she could still see the fear underneath. Slowly, she had resigned herself to the possibility that time might be the only thing that would make his fears diminish.

Then it occurred to her that it might be the suitcase that was bothering him. Pretty much everything she owned was in it and it would be easy for her to grab it and go at any time. (It's not like she hadn't done so several other times in her life.)

So, she started putting some of her things into drawers and such. It made her nervous because he hadn't _asked_ her to move in but, at the same time, he didn't seem to mind, either. Still, she didn't want to be too presumptuous, so she continued to use her suitcase for most of her clothes because usurping one of the drawers from his dresser seemed like too big a step without knowing for sure how he felt about it.

The drawers in the bathroom seemed less invasive and now one of them was unofficially assigned as hers. (Every time she opened it, she got a little thrill up her spine.) It was the same way with his closet – which she was now using almost half of. His mother's jewelry box felt like a bigger deal so one night she'd tried an experiment: She put her earrings into it while he was lying in bed, waiting for her to join him. She watched him carefully as she did it, attempting to discern his reaction, but he kept his face carefully blank and she wasn't sure if he was happy or annoyed about it.

Now that her suitcase was barely half-full, she couldn't think of anything else to do except continue to reassure him until the fear faded.

She rolled over and looked up at the ceiling.

He wanted her to stay, didn't he? It wasn't just wishful thinking, was it? Everything about being here felt so _right_. He must feel it, too.

She sighed and turned to her side, looking at the dresser where she could see a mix of their things lined up.

All her life she'd been searching for her home and she'd finally found it. More importantly, she'd finally figured out exactly what home really meant.

She'd thought she knew what it meant when she came back from Chicago – but she'd been so wrong. Home wasn't a _city_ , it wasn't a _place_.

Home was _him._

Home was being in his arms and seeing that smile he reserved for only her, feeling his lips against her temple and pressing her face into his neck. It was even things like taking turns making the bed and bringing lunch to his office, picking up his dry cleaning and washing the dishes together. Home was holding him through the night, the feel of his body warm against hers and his hand on her hip when she awoke.

Her home was anywhere he was and she knew if she moved out, her life wouldn't feel right anymore, she'd miss him with every fiber of her being.

(She still had the application, just in case, but the thought of filling it out made her stomach lurch.)

So she'd waited, hoping against hope that he'd ask her to stay.

Then, last night, after spending an absolutely incredible evening with him, she'd summoned all the courage she could muster and alluded to moving in by casually slipping the words 'our room' into the conversation.

She'd felt him stiffen as soon as the words were said and she immediately wished she could take them back – but at least he hadn't corrected her, and she tried to find encouragement in that (and in the way he'd practically devoured her once they made it to the bed).

She'd drop another hint today, she vowed to herself, and this time, she'd make sure she could see his eyes when she did it so she could gauge his reaction.

She heard him tinkering around in the kitchen, getting the coffee started like he did every time he woke up before her, and she knew if she headed straight to the shower, he'd bring her a cup after she was finished. He'd lay it on the vanity, like always, and then he'd slide his arm around her waist and kiss the back of her shoulder. But this morning, she didn't want to wait, she wanted to see him right now and make sure they were okay.

When she found him standing at the counter, she immediately realized something was wrong. His left hand was clenched into a tight fist and the muscle in his jaw was ticking. She started to say something but then she realized what he was holding in his right hand and she froze.

The apartment application she'd held onto.

He was looking at the thing like he wanted to rip it to shreds, like at any moment he'd challenge it to a fucking duel and – _god -_ she was such an _idiot_. He _did_ want her to stay.

It was never about the suitcase, it wasn't even because he wasn't sure of her feelings, it had all been because of that fucking application and – _Why didn't she think of it before?_

She drew a deep breath and started to speak but as she did, he cursed and turned away from the counter.

He stopped short when he noticed her in the doorway and, now that she could see his face full on, the pain and anger were so intense that it made her breath catch. He attempted to cover it immediately as he dropped his eyes to the floor but his hand was still clenched into a tight fist and his body was rigid.

He took two deep breaths while her mind searched desperately for something to say, searched for some way to _fix this_ because she hadn't seen that look since the night they'd been in this same room, the moment after she'd admitted that she would have left him even if she had known the truth about him.

Without looking back to her, he continued in the direction he'd been heading. "Good morning, love. I didn't hear you come in," he said with forced lightness – and it broke her a little to see him try to play this off like it wasn't eating him up inside.

She wanted to go to him, to rub the tension out of his shoulders and sooth the fear in his eyes but, at the same time, she wanted to walk over and shred the application to bits. She'd never been so angry at an inanimate object in her life – or felt such love for the man in front of her. Her eyes darted from him to the counter and back, indecision holding her frozen.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked with barely restrained tension, still not looking at her as he poured their coffee.

Tenderness welled up inside her as her eyes locked on his profile, her breath catching and releasing in her chest. He looked at her then and, really, it was just so simple. There was nothing in this world she wanted more than to go to him. That stupid piece of paper could wait. _He_ was the most important thing.

"I always sleep well when I'm beside you," she said, crossing the room in two long strides to frame his face, "And I _always_ want to sleep beside you," she held his gaze steadily, "Always."

His eyes softened and he drew a deep breath but before he could respond she reached over and grabbed the application, holding it up between them. "I only kept this because I wasn't sure if you wanted me to stay," she said, her voice quivering, "I knew you were used to having your own room, your own… space and I didn't know if you would want to share it with – "

"I do," he interrupted her, his arms coming around her waist. "I want to share everything with you, Emma. Don't you know that? Of course I want you to stay."

His mouth descended to hers before she could draw another breath, lips insistent and hungry. She rose to her toes to push into the kiss, wrapping her free arm around his back and digging her fingers into his shoulder.

There was a crackling of paper as the application got crushed between their bodies and they eased back slightly.

She pulled out the hand that held it from where it had been trapped between them and dropped the application to the floor with a flourish. They both watched it as it fell, landing on the tiles at their feet.

She turned her lips back up to his and kissed his grinning mouth, using the hand she had just freed to grip at the back of his head. In the same motion, she lifted her right leg and stomped down hard on the paper, grinding her heel into it. Moving one foot forward, Killian caught the edge of it with his toe and it ripped clean in half.

He smiled against her lips, "I've wanted to do that for weeks."

She chuckled in the back of her throat as he swept her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. He laughed in return, a light and free sound, as he turned and set her down on the counter, his hands yanking at her hips to pull her close.

He kissed her several more times, the smile still in place as he quickly pressed his lips against her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. But then his mouth settled on hers and the playfulness dissipated immediately. His lips forced hers apart and he leaned his head to the side to swipe his tongue deep in her mouth. Her breath got caught in her lungs at the abrupt change and she dug her fingers into his hips to anchor herself.

He kissed her hungrily for one more long moment and then pulled his head back. She leaned forward to him, blindly seeking his lips again, but he kept them from her as he ground his forehead to hers.

Her eyes opened a fraction and focused on his lips as he rubbed his nose over hers firmly, his jaw clenched as he licked his lips. "I love you, Emma Swan," he said, his voice hoarse with conviction and his accent thick, "and I'm never letting you go again."

The intensity of the declaration made her heart stutter, made her breath catch, and then his lips were attacking hers again and it was all she could do to hang on as he lifted her up and stepped away from the counter. He turned toward the door but, after one step, he seemed to change his mind and pivoted instead to drop her on the opposing counter next to the sink.

Something crashed to the floor – a coffee mug maybe – but she didn't look because his hands were now threaded in her hair, one tugging harshly to tilt her head back, and he plunged his tongue through her mouth with a growl. She moaned in return and then his hands were back under her and the counter beneath her was gone as he spun them again to press her into the refrigerator.

She held on tight to his neck, her legs desperately scrambling for purchase on his hips and he helped her by lifting one of them even as he rocked back and slammed forward, the force of it causing her breath to whoosh out of her lungs.

Something else crashed to the floor but this time she didn't even take time to speculate what it might be because she'd finally gotten her ankles locked around his back and she used all of her strength to squeeze him closer.

He groaned into her mouth as his fingers dug into her hip and – _jesus, she was on fire_ – because he pushed his straining need into exactly the right spot, his lips moving to her neck, his thumb guiding her chin up and to the left so that he could push his tongue into her pulse point and -

"Is everything alright?"

Mary Margaret's voice cut through the haze of lust and Killian's lips pulled away from her neck with wet sounding 'plop.'

Dazed, Emma heard the shuffling of feet and opened her eyes over Killian's shoulder to see Mary Margaret in the doorway, David standing behind her.

Breathing labored and swallowing hard, Killian eased her legs to the ground and blushed to the tips of his hair. He kept his body facing her as he looked over to their friends, trying to keep them from seeing the huge bulge that was still pressed into her leg, and dropped his hands from her hips.

Emma wanted to laugh as their friends took in the scene before them. Obviously they'd heard the multiple crashes and had come running to find out what was wrong – only to find them practically fucking against the refrigerator.

Mary Margaret eyes were blown wide as she glanced from the puddle of coffee on the floor (which had drowned the torn application and turned it from white into a light brown mush of paper) to the now dented mixing bowl that was still rolling back and forth on its rim (which must have been the second crash).

"You know that's unsanitary, right?" Mary Margaret said as she crossed her arms over her chest, "I _cook_ in here."

Emma froze and tried desperately not to laugh as Killian glanced at the wreckage then back to Mary Margaret. Then, clearing his throat, he said in way of explanation, "Emma has just agreed to move in."

Emma couldn't see Killian's face but he must have been smiling because even though he had tried to sound apologetic, David ducked his head behind Mary Margaret, bringing his fist up to cover the chuckle that escaped his mouth.

Mary Margaret's lips twitched a little, too, but she quickly covered it with an exasperated look and added with mock sternness, "Well, you owe me a new mixing bowl."

If possible, Killian's blush deepened. "You'll have the best money can buy by the end of the day, I promise."

Mary Margaret nodded shortly. "Good," she said with the same stern tone, "Now, the two of you can clean up this mess and then go to your room and think about what you've done."

Emma burst into a fit of giggles and raised the back of her hand to her mouth to cover it. Killian and David laughed, too, but Mary Margaret managed to keep the act going as she placed her hand on her hips, raised an eyebrow and tapped her toe to the ground in feigned impatience.

Laughing, Emma reached for the paper towels and tried to look appropriately admonished as she and Killian cleaned up the coffee on the floor.

David continued to chuckle as they worked and Mary Margaret started pulling pans out to make breakfast, dropping the act as well.

Emma raised her eyes to Killian with a teasing smile but he'd stopped working to look at the ruined mess that used to be the apartment application. She watched as he smiled at it and used a paper towel to gather it into a ball. Then, he winked at her and, with an expert flick of his wrist, he sent the ball sailing across the room where it landed in the center of the trash can.

Emma smiled, rose to her feet and reached for his hand, pulling him up beside her. Then, kissing him lightly on the mouth, she said, "Come on, let's go to our room so I can unpack."

….

….

(The next morning, when he found her in the kitchen, there was no panic in his eyes. His smile was easy and his gait unhurried as he shuffled over, looking adorably rumpled, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.)

(Then he snatched the spoon from her hand and stole a bite of her Fruit Loops.)


	16. Epilogue

Emma looked in the mirror and smiled, turning first one way and then the other, watching the long skirt of her costume flair out and listening to the rustle of the fabric.

She was going to _blow his mind_.

Facing the mirror head-on again, she adjusted the front of the corset one last time. It wasn't the easiest thing to breathe in and there was an excellent chance her spleen would be damaged forever but she didn't care about that. All she cared about at the moment was seeing Killian's reaction when he saw her.

Turning, she pulled the long brown cloak from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders as a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Emma? It's me," Mary Margaret called out.

"Come on in."

Emma turned to see her friend sweep into the room looking the perfect image of a fairytale princess, wearing a shimmering white ball gown trimmed with feathers, long white gloves and tiara perched on her head.

"Wow, you look perfect," Emma told her.

"So do you," Mary Margaret said with a smile, crossing to stand by her and wrap her arm around her waist as they faced the mirror together. "I have to admit: You were right. Tavern wench was a much better way to go than princess. You and Killian are going to look stunning together."

"Well, we can't all be the fairest of them all. Just wait 'til David sees you," Emma said, nudging her friend with her hip.

"We're going to knock their socks off," Mary Margaret agreed.

Emma laughed, "So, how goes it out there? And what on earth did Killian need?"

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, "If I told you, it would ruin the surprise. I'll just say I think you're going to be very pleased when you see him."

"I think you will be, too," Emma winked, "David makes one hell of a Prince Charming."

"Are you ready?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Yep," Emma replied, fluffing her hair and nodding, "Let's do this."

They made their way down the hall but before they were in sight of the living room, Mary Margaret stopped and called out, "You guys ready?"

There was a shuffling of feet before David called back, "Yep, we're ready."

Mary Margaret continued into the doorway stopped short, drawing in a sharp breath.

Emma knew instantly why her friend was so stunned and felt the immediate urge to laugh. She'd seen David's costume a few days ago when he'd been trying it on, the long red cape trimmed with an intricate silver design lying over a pristine white shirt, black pants and black boots, the perfect Prince Charming.

Over Mary Margaret's shoulder, she saw David approaching her friend, a look of pure adoration on his face.

"You look beautiful, milady," he said and swept into a low bow.

Mary Margaret chuckled softly and replied, "Thank you, my Prince. You look pretty darn good yourself."

David straightened and took a step forward to kiss her soft and slow and Emma suppressed the urge to shift back and forth in impatience. She didn't want to interrupt their sweet moment but she was anxious to see Killian. Apparently remembering themselves, they broke apart with an apologetic look to her and moved out of her way.

Emma drew a deep breath and stepped into the living room, scanning it until her gaze landed on Killian. The air immediately left her lungs and when she saw him and she damn near swallowed her own tongue.

 _Holy fuck._ Captain Hook had never looked so good.

He was leaning casually against the door frame to the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the hook attached to his left hand while he fiddled with it using his right. He didn't move when she entered the room, just continued to examine his hook and – _jesus_ , she never realized what a thing she had for leather.

Her eyes scanned him from head to toe. He was dressed almost completely in black – except for a red embroidered vest that was peeking out from his long flowing leather coat – his shirt unbuttoned to nearly half-way down his chest, exposing the dark hair that resided there, and her fingers immediately itched to rake through it.

There was no other word for it. He looked like pure, undiluted _sex_.

Hot. Hard. Mind blowing. _Sex_.

As though he could hear her thoughts, his eyes lifted to hers and an absolutely sinful smile crept across his face. It held her frozen for a second, her breath caught in her ridiculously compressed lungs, and – _oh my god_ – was he wearing eyeliner?

She never realized she had a thing for eyeliner, either.

"Hello, love," he greeted her with a flash of dimples, his voice low and accent dripping (intentionally, she was sure).

"Hello, Captain," she replied with a smile of her own, dropping her voice to match his and making him flash a quick smile.

He glanced down at the cloak that was covering her costume and raised an eyebrow, silently indicating that it was her turn.

She turned away to unfasten the clasp at her neck and tossed the cloak over the couch.

He was still leaning against the doorframe when she turned back to him but he straightened slowly as his eyes raked down her, hesitating briefly on the swell of her breasts, and she watched as his tongue darted out and ran along his bottom lip.

When his eyes came back to hers, the heat of his gaze was almost tempting enough to blow off this whole night and drag him back to their room and have her way with him until the morning, but just as the thought crossed her mind, David cleared his throat loudly.

"We should probably get going. The Jolly Roger isn't going to christen itself," he said, " _If_ you two can tear your eyes away from each other, that is."

Killian shook his head as if to clear it while Emma felt heat creep into her cheeks.

"Right you are, Dave," Killian said, "we don't want to be late, now, do we?"

He took a step toward her and held out his arm, "Shall we, milady?"

"Absolutely," she replied with a chuckle, "lead on, Captain."

He started leading her toward the door but then stopped as he waited for David and Mary Margaret to walk out. Once their friends were no longer in earshot and turned to whisper in her ear, "Honestly, darling? How am I supposed to concentrate on our guests with you looking like that? You're positively delectable."

The heat of his breath on her ear was more than a little distracting and the fact that he'd slipped his arm around her waist as he spoke, molding her body to his, was even more so.

"You're looking pretty good, too, Hook," she said breathlessly, turning her head to meet his eyes.

When his lips started descending to hers, she pressed her index finger to them with a smile.

"Unh-unh," she whispered, "I can't let you mess up my lipstick before we even get there."

He settled for nipping the finger she had pressed to his lips, then pulled her wrist up with a jerk and laid an open mouthed kiss on the inside of it grazing his teeth over her pulse and – _fuck_ – she felt it all the way to the soles of her feet.

"I can't bloody wait 'til this thing is over. I promise you, as soon as we're alone, I'm going to absolutely ravish you."

"We'll have to see about that," she responded, her eyes darting to his chest and back, "I might be the one ravishing you, tonight."

He smiled a predatory smile and brought her palm to his lips this time, placing another languid kiss in the center of it, looking up at her from under his eyelashes as he did. When her breath caught in her throat, his eyes twinkled knowingly, "That sounds like a challenge, love. And I do love a challenge."

Her heart skipped a beat at the heat in his eyes and he smiled mischievously as he took a step back. Lacing their fingers together, he motioned toward the door with his hook.

"We better get going before Dave comes looking for us."

She nodded in agreement and headed toward the door. Looking over her shoulder, she added, "I love the eyeliner, by the way."

He grinned. "Thank Mary Margaret for that. She insisted that no self-respecting pirate would ever go without it."

… …

The mood on deck was joyful and fun with just the right amount of elegance. The idea of having everyone dress as fairy tale characters was inspired and everyone had embraced it with zeal.

Ariel, predictably, was dressed as the little mermaid with her Prince Eric at her side. A couple of the guys Mary Margaret worked with were dressed as dwarves and Graham looked spectacular as the Huntsman. But the one that shocked her the most was Jefferson as the Mad Hatter (she'd never admit it to Killian but she didn't think she'd ever be able to watch Alice in Wonderland again without picturing him in that damn hat).

The food was excellent (Mary Margaret's restaurant catered it) and the liquor was flowing. It was an absolutely magical night, straight out of a storybook, the warm air coming in off the ocean and the stars sparkling overhead.

But none of that was top priority in her mind as she felt Killian's gaze land on her again from across the deck, the heat in his eyes making her cheeks flush.

She'd played dutiful girlfriend as she'd stood next to him when he broke the champagne bottle against the hull at the beginning of the night, and she'd accepted his light peck on the lips as they stood in front of all of their friends. But even though it had looked chaste, his fingers had dug into her waist, gripping tight, and his eyes had been smoldering as he pulled away, a promise behind the midnight blue that said he'd wanted so much more.

It had continued that way throughout the night, seemingly innocent displays of affection with underlying heat and tension in their bodies.

He'd come up behind her while Ariel was showing off the latest picture of her new baby, Melody, using his hook to trace a line all the way up her back, causing her to hold back a shudder. She'd slipped one of her arms under his coat when he'd been talking with David, delighted when she realized that no one would be able to see if she untucked the back of his shirt and used her nails to scratch along the top of his leather pants. His hand had held almost a vise grip on her waist as they chatted with Jefferson and his date, all the while stroking his thumb softly against her side.

They'd shared so many heated gazes and subtle touches throughout the evening that it had gotten to the point where she couldn't concentrate on any else. She only hoped she was nodding and smiling at the right times as conversation flowed around her, not hearing a word, constantly seeking him out. It was driving her crazy and she knew by the look in his eyes, he was no better.

At some point during the night they'd come to an unspoken agreement to stay away from each other, both knowing that the other's restraint was on the verge of cracking. But still, the smoldering looks across the deck were more than enough to warm her blood and leave a tingling sensation between her thighs.

Around midnight, the guests _finally_ started leaving and soon the only people left were the caterers as they loaded the tables and remaining food into an awaiting van.

Emma stood at the rail and looked out over the ocean. She wasn't sure where Killian was at the moment, he'd disappeared shortly after Mary Margaret and David had headed down the gangplank, but she wasn't worried, they'd made plans to stay on the ship overnight and she knew he'd find her once they were alone.

The caterers were almost finished with the cleanup when she felt the heat of his body at her back. His arm snaked around her and yanked her back into his embrace and, god help her, she groaned when she looked down to see his hook as it traced a path from her waist up to the edge of her corset, his lips hot on her neck before he whispered in her ear, "Meet me in the Captain's cabin. I'll be down as soon as I can."

"Aye, Captain," she said breathlessly, making him grin like the devil as she sauntered off in the direction of his cabin.

She'd been in it before, she'd helped him find some old tattered books that were now lined up on the bookshelves as well as several small trunks and other knick knacks to give the room a more vintage feel but the sight that greeted her as she entered tonight made her breath catch in her throat.

A small smile came to her lips as she looked around. There were candles everywhere, casting a warm glow around the room. Rose petals littered the floor and covered the bed, which was already turned down, a large vase of flowers sat on the whitewashed table and alongside them was bottle of champagne and two flutes.

She wandered through the room, running her finger along the table and leaning forward to breathe in the scent of the flowers. Tenderness welled up inside her. This was just like him, so sweetly romantic and thoughtful. They'd been looking forward to this for weeks, a night away from the apartment, totally alone for the first time and, of course, he'd do something like this.

"How do you like it?" he asked, suddenly appearing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"It's perfect," she said as she turned to face him. " _You're_ perfect," she added going up on tiptoe to glide her lips across his.

"It's no less than my lady deserves," he responded and kissed her back.

"Still not a lady," she joked as she stepped back and raised her arms, "just a simple bar wench."

He followed to pull her back into his embrace, "Ah, but you're more than that, love. You are a princess in disguise, tired of the demands of your station and seeking some adventure."

The grin he gave her was contagious, and she smiled back, "And who better to have an adventure with than the notorious pirate, Captain Hook?"

"The devilishly handsome Captain Hook."

"Ah yes, the _devilishly handsome_ pirate who is trying to lure me in with his wicked ways?"

"Perhaps," he said in a low voice as his eyes went a shade darker, the tension she'd felt earlier on deck returning as he began to steadily back her up, "Or perhaps you are trying to use your feminine wiles to lure _me_ in, find out what it's like to be with a pirate before your boring sod of a prince shows up and claims you."

Suddenly the ladder was at her back and his weight against her, his eyes focused on her mouth as his head descended. His lips stopped just short of touching and her breath hitched, the look in eyes warming her blood. He tangled his hand in her hair, holding her captive and guiding her head to the left as his lips hovered over hers.

"Which do you think, love?" he asked, his breath hot on her lips, "Am I trying to corrupt you? Or is it you," his hook appeared and ran down the line from her shoulder along the top of her corset, causing a shudder of anticipation to go through her, "who is trying to corrupt me?"

His eyes had been tracing the line of his hook but as he asked the question, he looked up at her from under his lashes with a sinful smile, one eyebrow arched in challenge.

"Why can't it be both?"

She tried to match his challenge but her voice came out in barely over a whisper, her lungs heaving, making her breasts push against the restraining corset. His eyes were drawn back to them as he turned his arm and retraced his path with the curved side of the hook. Her skin erupted in goosebumps at the cool metal and, holy fuck, she'd never been so turned on before.

Moving his right hand from her neck, he glided it down her body to her waist where he squeezed almost bruisingly as his eyes devoured her. "You're absolutely breathtaking tonight, love," he whispered. "You can't imagine the thoughts I've had all night watching you in this dress."

"Oh, I think I can guess," she rasped.

"Can you?" he asked, bringing his eyes to hers.

With a quick twist of his wrist, he threaded his hook through the ties of her corset and tugged lightly, bringing her mouth to his in a searing kiss. He kissed her deep, almost violently and she gasped into his mouth. At the same time, he worked the hook out from underneath her laces to wrap his arm around her waist, his hand moving into her hair and tugging brutally to expose the line of her neck to his teeth and tongue.

A surprised whimper fell from her mouth at the rough treatment and he broke away abruptly, his eyes blazing with a fire she'd never seen from him before, a dark, dangerous look that sent a shiver of excitement running through her veins.

 _Pirate_.

The word flashed through her mind as her hands grappled for the collar of his coat and tried to bring their mouths back together. He resisted it, though, pressing his forehead into hers instead and closing his eyes as he drew a deep breath and released it slowly. The grip he had on her hair loosened and he moved his hand to knead the muscles at the base of her neck soothingly. When he opened his eyes the look was gone, Killian once again.

"I love you, Emma," he ground out, his voice gritty and low, the sound oozing through her being and settling in her chest.

Before she could reply, his mouth was back on hers but now the unrestrained hunger was gone. It was still intense, still consuming and passionate, but it was also controlled as his hand continued massaging her neck.

He was holding back, she realized, some feminine instinct in her gut whispering that he was trying to be a gentleman, trying to rein in some overwhelming primal instinct. That flash she'd seen in his eyes, the dangerous and sinful look – he was trying to contain it.

The thought sent a jolt of confusion through her. They'd been together for months and he'd never held back from her before. Why was he doing it now?

The confusion only intensified when his lips left hers to move to the column of her neck, his touch suddenly light and reverent as he brushed his tongue along her throat. She wasn't sure what was going on in his head and she opened her mouth to ask but words failed her as his teeth scraped against the column of her neck.

Then his mouth was back on hers, his hand brushing gently down her arm to lace their fingers together. When their palms met, Emma squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him with her touch. Something was going here, she knew it, she could feel it in the carefully measured way he was touching her. Surely he wasn't afraid of hurting her? Was he? It's not like they hadn't had rough sex before. But something tonight was holding him back and she just didn't get it… After all the teasing on deck… After all the longing glances and subtle touches, she'd expected this to be fast and frenzied. Hell, she _wanted_ it to be fast and frenzied. She was already wound so tight she could feel the dampness between her legs. And she knew he was no better. That heat she'd seen in his eyes a moment ago... There was no way he wasn't as wound up as her, no matter how much he was trying to take his time.

So she pushed him, using everything she knew about his body to draw the pirate back out. She started by moving one hand to the back of his head, threading her fingers in his dark hair and tilting his head with a quick yank, opening her mouth wider and kissing him harder. Her efforts were rewarded when a low growl sounded from the back of his throat but she could still feel the tension in his body, so she pressed him further, moving her other hand under his long coat to rake her nails lightly along the line of his pants.

His hips surged forward at that and she felt a moment of victory but it didn't last long because he immediately tried to break away again when she whimpered at the sharp pain of her back connecting with the edge of one of the steps.

"Emma…" he gasped against her lips, a plea and a warning in his voice.

She answered the plea and ignored the warning as she dipped her hand into the back of his pants and urged him forward again, her lips still hot on his. His body tensed even more at her urgings, his arms trembling as his hand gripped at the ladder, his bicep taut under her fingers due to the restraint he was putting forth.

It took a few more strategic touches before she felt it - the moment he gave in - a strangled groan echoing through the room as his mouth slanted over hers with unrestrained desire. The pirate had finally broken free from his confines and she savoured it. But even as he pressed his body demandingly to hers, she felt his hand move to the slat of wood at her back, offering her some cushion when his hips surged forward again, the gentleman in him not entirely suppressed.

It continued like that, the mix of pirate and gentleman, of violence and tenderness and she relished both sides. A gentle brush of lips even as his fingers left bruises on her waist. A soft caress down her jaw while his hand fisted viciously in her hair. Growled curses and whispered praises mixing together until she was a writhing mess beneath him.

It was intoxicating, this war he seemed to be fighting, the pirate trying to push to the surface and the gentleman restraining him. His mouth moved back to hers, kissing her with urgency and abandon and she kissed him back with the same reckless passion, tongue and teeth sloppy as he sucked her top lip, nipping it harshly.

She gasped, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room, and he immediately pulled away and ran his thumb along her lip, soothing it even as the rough pants of his breath filled the space between them.

"Perhaps we should open the champagne," he ground out, gesturing toward the table with a nod of his head.

 _Gentleman_.

"It can wait," she responded, surprised at how strong her voice sounded.

His eyes came back to hers, nearly black with hunger and he swallowed hard, "Emma, I…" He shook his head and closed his eyes, an obvious attempt to regain some control again as his fingers clenched and unclenched at her waist.

"Killian? Look at me," she requested, waiting patiently until his eyes were on hers. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not. It's just… I want you so much and I - "

"I want you, too," she told him intently, running her nails along the base of his neck, "And you don't need to hold back. I know you'll never hurt me."

"It's not that, it's just… tonight was supposed to be… but seeing you in that dress. I wasn't prepared for it and I want you so much and…"

He was rambling, and adorable, and sweet, and gorgeous, and she just _snapped_ , silencing him with her mouth on his and pulling his body closer.

"Show me," she breathed against his lips, "show me how much you want me."

With an almost pained sound, he gave her what she asked for, lips hard and demanding on hers, diving and retreating only to dive again, deeper and deeper. Electricity spiked between them with each stroke of his tongue and soon her limbs were melting, her body going lax in his arms as she leaned back against the ladder. He followed without breaking the kiss and she groaned loudly as he splayed his hand against the small of her back, pressing her more firmly to him as his hips began to rock. She held him tightly in return, moving with equal urgency but quickly became frustrated with the full skirt of her dress. The damn thing was preventing her from feeling the hard line of him where she needed him most and she cursed out loud. She needed _more_ , she needed to feel him _there_. S _he needed to get this fucking skirt out of the way_.

Perching herself on one of the steps, she opened her legs and started pulling the fabric up. It wasn't an easy task with his body so close and she broke from his mouth to put some space between them as she yanked at the material.

When he realized what she was doing, he stepped back, leaving the hook hanging on the rung beside her head and stripped off the leather coat in a frenzy, tossing it to the side. She was still struggling with the skirt as he closed the distance again and buried his hand under the fabric, seeking and finding that spot that was aching for him with his palm and pushing forward. Her head fell back at his touch, heat shooting out to her limbs and gathering low in her belly. She lost her grip on the skirt, completely overcome by the feel of his hand rubbing against her as his mouth claimed her neck, sucking at her skin.

He growled into the hollow of her throat, a reckless, needy sound when she bucked against him and then he lifted his head and pulled back, the hook back on his hand as he slid the cool metal under her laces.

"If you want to salvage this dress, you'd better loosen it right now, love."

She looked down to where the hook was pulling at the laces, her breath coming in rough pants that were making her breasts strain against the material. Each inhale brought the hook into contact with her skin and she shivered. It had to be the most erotic thing she'd ever seen and she smiled as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

"The laces can be replaced."

A quick look of surprise flashed across his features and then, with wicked grin and a hard tug, the laces snapped – and along with them any control either of them had left.

She gasped loudly as the corset gave way and she took a moment to enjoy the fact that she could finally draw a deep breath. She didn't have time to revel in it long, though, because he was there, his body heavy on hers as he jerked the bodice from her shoulders to plant fevered kisses on the newly exposed skin.

Rational thought dissipated in the space between them, both of them frantic and straining toward the other. His vest got discarded in the same direction as his coat, her hands practically ripping it off him. The corset was next and the flimsy shirt underneath pulled low enough to expose her breasts to his mouth. He leaned forward immediately and latched onto one, his hand claiming the other as his teeth and tongue drew an unrestrained shout from her. Her knees nearly gave out again as the white hot pleasure made her body weak but his hand caught her, holding her up and easing her back to lean on the ladder.

Desperately, she reached for his pants and found that rather than a button-fly, they were actually laced. _Where the fuck did he get this costume?_ Smiling wickedly, she reached for the hook he had abandoned on the rung next to her and used her other hand to pull roughly at the hair on the back of his head. His mouth released the nipple he'd been concentrated on with a loud sucking noise and an almost demented groan as he strained against the pull of her fingers, his eyes still focused on her chest.

It wasn't until he saw the hook come between them that he lifted his eyes to hers, a mix of astonishment and desire on his face as he swallowed hard.

Smiling, she used the smooth side of the hook to trace a line from his collarbone through the exposed hair of his chest to the top button of his shirt where she paused for a moment, then continued to run it down until she – very carefully – worked the tip of it through the laces on his pants. She lifted her eyes questioningly to his but he wasn't looking at her, his focus on the hook, his arms braced on either side of her head as he held his breath. She waited as patiently as she could but he didn't look up, so she gave a small tug on the laces, not enough to snap them but enough to get the message across.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to hers. "Do it," he rasped.

A quick jerk of the hook had him groaning loudly as the laces snapped and his head fell forward on a long breath. Fueled by his reaction, she dropped the hook to the floor with a clunk and slid down to a lower rung, pulling at the leather until his cock sprang free. Her mouth took him in immediately and his body swayed, landing on his elbows against the ladder as though his arms couldn't hold him upright anymore.

"Bloody fucking hell, Emma," he groaned as she took him deep, sucking hard, one hand wrapped around the base of him and the other digging into his thigh to hold him still. He tasted so good on her tongue and she moaned as looked up at him, watching his face twist into a mask of pleasure as his eyes clenched shut and his mouth fell open. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against one of the rungs above her as his hand tangled in her hair.

She pumped him into her mouth a few more times before his hand fisted at her nape and he urged her to her feet, his lips seeking hers even as he started gathering her skirt again to pull it back up. The heavy material resisted and he cursed into her mouth.

"Get it off," he ground out, desperately searching with his hands to find where it was fastened, "get it off, now."

Reaching behind her, she pulled the tie that held it as his thumbs caught in the waist and yanked it down her legs, her underwear going with it, until it was pooled at her feet. Then his arms looped around her waist and he lifted her, backing into the room and leaving the skirt behind.

They reached the bed much quicker than she thought they would and he hefted her up onto the edge of it, his hands moving to her thighs and spreading her legs wide. Stepping between them, he wasted no time before sinking deep, one hand under her hip to angle her and the other on her torso to push her upper body down onto the bed. Without giving her any time to adjust, he was pounding into her with hard, fast strokes. She tried to keep up but the pace he set was brutal and it wasn't long before he had her backside cupped in his hands, moving her hips for her.

She gripped at the sheets and held fast, breath catching as her eyes raked down him. He looked completely lost, his eyes clenched shut and his teeth digging into his lower lip as he plundered her for all she was worth. He was still wearing his shirt, half open down his chest, and she itched to run her fingers through the dark swath of hair. But when she tried to sit up, she only managed to get one arm underneath her before one of his hands left her hips and pushed her back down roughly.

He opened his eyes to meet hers with a dark grin, the black of his irises glittering in the candlelight as the hand holding her down moved to between her legs and he began rubbing at her with his thumb. His movements were still fevered, still pounding, and when his thumb rubbed against her she bowed back on the bed, white hot pleasure shooting through her. She let out a cry that shocked even herself and gripped at the blankets. He chuckled darkly but she could barely hear it over the pounding of blood in her ears, she couldn't hear anything except the wanton sounds he drew from her, each one more desperate than the last as he continued his assault. Every thrust of his hips brought her closer to the edge, every swipe of his thumb made her soar higher until she was balanced on the precipice, teetering on the edge for one blissful moment and crashing down in the next as stars exploded behind her eyes and she came undone.

"You are truly magnificent when you come, darling," he rasped as he slowed his hips to draw out her pleasure, his voice gravelly and a bit smug. "I think I'd like to see it again."

Before she could even catch her breath, he pulled her upright and spun, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding her on his lap. He never stopped moving but he kept the pace slow for another moment while she recovered, his lips trailing across her shoulder with open mouthed kisses. Her nose was buried in his neck where she could feel the fast pounding of his pulse even as her own blood slowed down and she was amazed yet again by his restraint.

As soon as she felt the strength return to her legs, she squeezed him tight, silently letting him know she was ready for more. His reaction was immediate, pushing up with his hips so fast that he nearly unseated her. She yelped, clutching at his shoulders for balance, but she needn't have bothered as his hand was there, firm on her back, holding her in place.

Meeting his gaze, she leaned back and moved one hand to his knee, her fingers digging into the leather pants he was still wearing. She marveled at what a turn on it was as her head fell back and she groaned loudly. The new angle was already hitting her perfectly and it was an embarrassingly short amount of time later when she crashed for the second time.

She heard him ground out a curse through the haze of pleasure, and then he was standing, turning to lay her down on the bed. Her eyes popped open when he slipped out of her and she watched, unabashed as he quickly removed his pants and shirt.

Then he was leaning over her, tugging at the last of her clothing as well, saying, "I want to feel all of you against me tonight, love."

As soon as she was completely bare, he immediately climbed atop her and sank deep. Their eyes met as he bottomed out and she gasped his name, watching his eyes dilate on a hiss of breath. How he managed to do it, she had no idea, but he held completely still inside her as his eyes dropped from hers to her body, his hand gliding along her skin, up and down, from the valley of her breasts to the bottom of her stomach as his eyes worshipped her.

"You're incredible, love," he said intensely, "You're bloody gorgeous," his eyes lowered to where they were joined, "The way it feels to be inside you…"

She could hear the strain in his voice and a surprising lump appeared at the back of her throat. "I know," she choked out as she applied pressure to the back of his neck, coaxing his eyes to hers. Her breath caught when they met, the desire and love she saw there causing her eyes to water. "It's perfect, the way you feel, the way you've always chased away the emptiness."

"Emma…" he gasped on an exhale of breath, leaning down to place a soft kiss to her lips. Then leaning his forehead into hers, he clamped his eyes shut and bit his lower lip. "I love you. Sometimes I can't believe how much."

The words, mixed with the low rasp of his voice and the feel of him pressed against her, made her heart flutter. "I love you, too," she breathed.

As soon as the words left her mouth, his hips started moving again and he covered her mouth with a wanton kiss, teeth and tongue sloppy in their intensity.

The kiss spiraled out as his hips quickened. "Come with me, this time," she rasped between his lips, locking her fingers around the back of his neck and holding their foreheads together.

Groaning loudly, he wrenched both of her hands from his neck and pulled them above her head, linking their fingers together as he pulled almost completely out of her and then slammed back in.

Her body arched against him, one long line of surrender as his hips pistoned in and out in short, fast strokes. His fingers were gripping hers tight, sweat beading up on his skin as he let the hunger overcome him, finally, and fucked her into the mattress.

Sucking in a breath at the desperation she felt radiating off of him, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him dragging inside her, filling her over and over again. He made that sound in the back of his throat that was a sure sign that he was getting close and, impossibly, she felt another orgasm start to build, fueled by his. When his body heaved and he pulsed inside her, she fell apart again, crying out as an echoing shout escaped his lips.

He released her hands and fell forward to brace himself on his elbows. Resting his head on her shoulder, he took several deep breaths as they came down, then he moved his mouth to hers, depositing sweet, satisfied kisses along her lips and across her cheek, around her chin and back down to her neck. It was like he couldn't stop kissing her, his soft moans those of a thoroughly satisfied man who couldn't get enough of the taste of her skin.

She hummed contentedly in the back of her throat when his mouth settled on hers once more, raising her hand to caress along his jaw. When he lifted enough that she could see his eyes, they were soft and satisfied as he smiled at her. Bringing his hand up, he fingered at her hair, threading through the strands and pulling them forward as his thumb moved to her chin and he rubbed his nose against hers affectionately.

"How did I ever get so lucky?"

He asked the question quietly, as if to himself but she still felt the need to answer. "I think I'm the lucky one," she replied.

He shook his head in denial. "Sometimes I look at you and I just… I can't believe you're mine. You make me feel…"

He couldn't seem to think of a word good enough to articulate what he wanted to say – a first for him – but he didn't have to say it. She understood. His eyes said it all, the wonder and awe, the tenderness and undeniable love she saw simmering there. It was the same for her at times, overcome with the love she felt for him, times like this when it was like they were one soul.

"I know," she whispered.

He smiled softly when she ran her fingers through the hair at his temple and she returned it without speaking.

They held still for a moment, smiling at each other before he rolled to the side and pulled her into his arms. She turned toward him, nuzzled into his shoulder and rested her hand over his heart where it beat strong and steady under her palm.

Drawing a long and satisfied breath, she chuckled and snuggled into his shoulder, something having just occurred to her. Running her fingers teasingly through the hair on his chest, she grinned. "Now I know what it's like to be ravaged by a pirate."

He huffed out a short laugh and ran his hand down her spine. "You liked it?" he asked, somewhat sheepishly.

She made a satisfied sound in reply and laid a kiss on his chin.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She lifted her eyes to his, the concern in his voice filling her with tenderness. "I might not be able to walk for a week, but it was worth it."

He smiled and brought her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss.

"This is not how this night was supposed to go."

"Really? Cuz, I think it went perfectly."

He chuckled, "I'd been planning something a little more romantic… But that dress… Were you trying to kill me?"

"Look who's talking, with all that black leather," she grinned and rubbed her body against his, "You knew I wasn't going to able to resist you in that."

He smiled and linked their hands together, bringing hers up to kiss the back of it, then took the time to kiss the tip of each finger, his tongue teasing out when he got to her thumb.

"Shall we have that champagne now?" he asked.

"As long as I don't have to get up. I was serious about the walking thing. My legs feel like jelly."

"You needn't move a muscle, love. I'll get it."

He rolled out of bed and put his shirt back on before crossing to the table.

Stretching languidly against the soft sheets, she turned to watch him as he poured their drinks, her muscles protesting even from that small movement (she wasn't lying about her legs, she wasn't sure if they would even support her at the moment).

When he returned with their glasses, he handed one to her before sitting down to face her. "What should we toast to, darling?" he asked, raising his glass.

"To the Jolly Roger," she said after a moment's thought, "and to you for all of the work you've put into it to make it a reality."

He smiled and clinked their glasses together. "And to you for supporting me," he added before he took a sip.

"I didn't do anything," she said softly.

"Yes, you did, darling. When you came back from Chicago, I was still unsure if I should buy it. But do you know when I made the decision?"

When she shook her head, no, he continued.

"The night of our first date. I brought you to see it. Do you remember?"

"I'll never forget that night."

"We stood and looked over the water together and I knew…" he paused and turned his head, looking suddenly nervous, picking one of the rose petals from the sheets and rubbing it in between his fingers, "As long as you're with me, I can do anything. Us, together, we can accomplish anything." He met her eyes again as he went on, "You told me once that my voice had encouraged you while you were away… and I want you to know that you do the same for me. You're my guiding light, love. You are the most important thing in the world to me and I…" He faltered again and dropped his gaze.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she waited for him to continue, confused as to why he suddenly seemed so anxious, why he felt the need to pick invisible lint from the sheets –

He shook his head and started to raise one hand to scratch at the back of his neck – his most obvious nervous tell – then stopped and instead plucked the glass from her hand and laid both of them down on the ledge next to the bed. He stood again without meeting her eyes and crossed to one of the shelves, pulling down an ornate jewelry box she'd found for him at a flea market a few months ago.

He met her eyes from across the room, a sweet but apprehensive smile on his face – and that's when it hit her.

_Oh, god._

Candlelight, rose petals, champagne.

_Oh, dear god. This was it._

Emotion seized her as she watched him cross back toward the bed, his eyes soft but set with conviction, shimmering in the muted light.

_Was she breathing?_

"You're the most amazing woman I've ever known, Emma. The strongest, the kindest, the most loving." He'd reached the bed and sat back down as he opened the jewelry box and pulled out a velvet case. He laid the jewelry box on the ledge next to their glasses and met her eyes.

She rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on the blanket.

"I want to spend the rest of my days beside you. I want us to build a life together. I want to share every moment with you, good and bad."

He reached up and ran his finger along her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped.

_Was she crying?_

She drew a shaky breath and tried to smile before she realized that she already was.

He opened the box and her eyes landed on a beautiful princess cut diamond.

_She was definitely crying and she definitely wasn't breathing._

"Emma Swan, will you marry me?"

She was still looking at the ring, blurry though it was through her tears. Quickly blinking them away, she looked up to him, his eyes shining with love, that beautiful smile of his making her heart flutter. She drew a deep breath, emotion choking her, clogging her throat as she tried to answer. _Yes._ But when she opened her mouth, the word wouldn't come and she had to swallow hard. She nodded her head frantically as she finally was able to gasp out, "Yes. Of course, yes!"

He slipped the ring on her finger then leaned forward to press his lips to hers.

She'd never felt more at home.


	17. The Freckle

It had taken him a while to notice it, the way she kissed just below his right ear every chance she got.

(He couldn't really be blamed for not noticing. It's not like he cared _where_ she kissed him, it sent a thrill through him regardless of where her lips met his skin.)

He first took note of it when they were walking through Williams Sonoma, trying to find a present for Mary Margaret's birthday. She'd been holding his left hand as he'd pointed out a copper braiser but she suddenly released it for no reason whatsoever and moved around him to take his right instead, linking there fingers back together and saying that she wanted to check the pasta makers before they made their final choice. Then she'd gone up on tiptoe to give him a light kiss. He'd thought she was about to kiss he cheek and leaned down to receive it but instead she brushed her lips along his neck, her nose rubbing his ear in the process.

It had happened several times again after that, times when he thought she was about to kiss his cheek but then veered her lips to just under his ear. His first thought had been she didn't like kissing the scruff and made it a point to offer to shave.

She'd looked at him like she thought he was joking when he offered but when he insisted he didn't mind, she gave him the most endearing look of confusion and saying, "Why on earth would you think I want you to shave?"

Still not completely convinced, he had tried to reply but before he could, she'd cupped his face in her hands and kissed him long and slow, rubbing her palms over his whiskers. "I love your scruff," she'd added when her mouth broke from his.

After that, he started to notice how she always seemed to position herself to his right... when they cuddled on the couch, when they went to the theatre, when they waited in line at the grocery store until, finally, one day he realized it really _wasn't_ about the scratchy whiskers - because she never kissed below his left ear, only his right.

It wasn't until she came home late one night, exhausted and bleary eyed from a long day that he finally asked her about it.

He'd been waiting up for her, wedged into the right side of the couch watching some Stephen Colbert when she shuffled in the door, her feet dragging as she kicked off her shoes and sighed with relief.

"Hello, love, come have a seat. You look exhausted and I've got a lovely Pinot here that will help you relax."

She smiled at him as she approached but he could see the fatigue in her gait as he raised his hand to pull her down next to him. She took his hand but rather than sitting down, she tugged him to his feet and took his place, pulling him down so that she was once again on his right. With a tired sigh, she accepted the glass of wine and took a sip, humming in the back of her throat.

"Thanks," she murmured and handed the glass back to him.

He leaned forward to set the glass on the table and when he straightened he felt her lips against that spot again.

Colbert forgotten, he turned to look at her with amusement. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You always kiss me there, under my right ear."

Her lips curled up at his question and she raised a delicate eyebrow. "Hmmm. Do I do that?" she asked innocently.

"You know you do," he said with a smile.

"I didn't think you'd noticed."

"Well, I have... and now I'm wondering why."

Her smile widened mischievously as she bit her lower lip and moved her gaze to the spot in question, using her finger to trace it.

"I'm kissing my freckle," she told him.

"You're freckle?" he asked, utterly confused.

"Yeah, you have a freckle right here," she said, leaning forward to kiss it again, this time using her tongue to punctuate her statement.

"I do not," he replied, hearing his own voice catch and idly hoping that this affect she had on him would never end.

She pulled back, seemingly distracted as her eyes stayed focused on his neck and she ran her tongue over her lower lip then caught it with her teeth. "Yes, you do," she said, moving her eyes to his.

"Well, Swan, even though I find it highly unlikely, if I do have a freckle there, isn't it mine?"

"Oh, no," she purred, "It's definitely _mine_."

"As possession is nine tenths of the law, I do believe it's mine - _but..."_ he added with a devilish grin, "I'd be very happy to trade you something for it."

If possible, her smile grew. "Like what?"

Moving his right hand to her waist, he pulled her top out of her jeans while at the same time, he yanked at her hips, moving her so that she was half lying on the couch, her head against the arm.

"This," he said, rubbing his thumb into her side as his mouth descended to lave at her waist with his tongue.

"What?" she asked, breathless, looking down to see what he was referring to.

"You have a little mole right here," he said as he settled his chest between her legs and used his forefinger to point to it.

"Do I? Really?"

"Yes, love, you do. And I want it. So, I'll make you a deal: My freckle for your mole."

He leaned back down as he spoke, his lips making contact with the mark again and he heard her quick intake of breath when he sucked at it, arching against him.

"That sounds like a fair trade," she groaned out.

He continued to lavish the spot with attention for another moment before her fingers twisted in his hair and she pulled his body upward.

"Now, bring me my freckle."


End file.
